The Missing Years
by DKnAK
Summary: He missed her. With every fiber in him he missed her. He missed the way she laughed, not just the sound, he could hear that through the phone, but he missed the way her entire body laughed with the noise. Sequel to Fireworks;Prequel to Thinking of You.
1. Closer To You

A/N: sorry this has taken so long. I am chaning career paths and have gone back to school FT. This is not Thinking of You. I thought it was going to be confusing so this is sort of a prequel to that story. I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but hopefully the next one wont be too far off.

Chapter Title by A Side

Disclaimer: I do not own OTH, the characters, etc.

* * *

She almost couldn't believe that it was already November. Lucas had been gone for over three months now. At first she didn't know what to do; it had always been him and her against the world- or so it seemed. She literally felt like a vital piece of her had gone missing and had to relearn how to live various parts of her life.

He had left two weeks before his semester actually began. He had to be there the week before for Freshmen Orientation and wanted to be there the week before that to get settled in. He'd asked her, begged her, to go with him. Looking back, now, she's not sure why she didn't just pack up and go. There was nothing and no one keeping her here. Her parents were off on some peregrination through Europe and Brooke was visiting her mother in California for the first time in…._ever_ since Peyton had known her. So there was really nothing keeping her in Tree Hill. But she had convinced herself that it would be harder to leave him knowing that she had nothing to come home to, when the only 'home' she knew would be staying in New York. So she'd stayed.

She'd driven him to the airport. She'd gotten a pass from the security desk that allowed her to walk to the gate with him and stayed until his flight was called. She hugged him one last time and kissed him passionately before he walked through the jet way. And she didn't shed a tear. Not one. She sat, waiting, in the hard plastic chair looking out the large plate window while people buzzed about around her. She waited as a flight attended called for final boarding and while they closed the door. She waited while the plane backed away from the terminal and headed down the runway; while it wheeled down the taxiway.

For almost an hour she sat waiting, numb to everything around her until her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out and didn't bother with a greeting. Telling the caller _No, she didn't need a ride_ and _Yes, she was fine_. She thought maybe if she could make him believe that then she could make herself believe it, too.

He showed up anyway, about thirty minutes later, like she somehow knew he would, finding her sitting alone in the baggage claim area, and where it wasn't the face that she was so wanting to see, it was the only one she had left. He wore a sympathetic smile and an over sized hoodie emblazoned with that familiar Blue Devil, depicting his own college of choice and reminding her that she would be saying similar farewells again in two weeks to send off another of her closest friends, another part of her family- because they truly were the only family she had. And suddenly it was all too much too soon. Too many life changing things and too little time to prepare for them. If you can ever truly prepare for a 'good-bye'.

Like the flick of a switch, the tears came. They came in torrents; heavy, blinding tears blurring her vision and bone racking sobs shaking her body. She felt the strong arms wrap around her and the firm chest she was pressed up against. Just when she thought she'd finally gotten herself under control, his chin rest against the top of her head and something about the naturalness of the whole thing brought the tears storming back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely pulling away from him.

"Ah," he shrugged, throwing his right arm over her shoulders as she tucked into him a little bit and led her through the automatic doors. "I'm used to being the stand in."

She rolled her eyes and the corners of her mouth turned up just slightly. That's not what'd she'd meant and he'd known that. But he'd been aiming for that smile and felt like his job was accomplished when he saw it.

He said that he was taking her home and the four letter word made her stomach churn. She closed her eyes and didn't open them again until the car rolled to a stop. She again felt the pressure of tears when she realized that he hadn't taken her back to her house but his. And she cried all over again when Deb pulled her into a warm motherly hug before she'd even walked through the front door. She spent those last two weeks of August at the other Scott's house, sleeping in Brooke's bed until the brunette got home. And she cried the entire time.

She pulled herself together long enough to see Nathan and Haley off as they pulled out of the driveway headed for Duke. They'd finally gotten their act together just before graduation and finding out that they were already planning on attending the same college seemed to seal the deal. Nathan would be playing ball and Haley was on academic scholarship. They were so happy and Peyton couldn't be happier for them, even if she was mildly frustrated and thoroughly jealous.

She moved back into her house the night before school started and pretty much cried her way through September. It was embarrassing, now, to think back on it, the way she handled herself. She grinned, thinking back to Brooke and her way of 'helping' the situation.

"_Seriously, P. Sawyer? What is wrong now?" she asked of the blond lying face down spread out across the bed. Her shoulders shaking in an overly familiar way warning the brunette of the tear streaks that would be on her face. For a girl she had never, not _once_ seen cry since she'd know her, she certainly was making up for it now._

"_He hasn't called." She whispered. They spoke every day, sometimes several times a day, but he hadn't called that day and it was killing her._

"_Well can you blame him?" Brooke huffed, shoulders back and fists planted on her hips. Peyton sat up swiftly, tears stopping instantly as she eyed the other girl. She was offended, and Brooke recognized that immediately but enough was enough. "I'm serious Peyton. I'm surprised he's called as long as he has." She watched as the large green eyes in front of her got even larger before taking a step forward and softening her voice a little. "All you do when he calls is cry! I wouldn't be calling either. I'm sure he misses you too but don't you think the never ending guilt trip is wearing him down?"_

"_Guilt trip?" her own temper rising as she stood from the bed, straightening to her full five foot eight inch height._

"_Yes, Peyton, guilt trip," she spoke the last two words slowly, "tears are like…blackmail for boys, and they usually do anything at all costs to stay away from them. And you're using them-"_

"_I'm not 'using' them Brooke!" she cut her off hotly. "I just…. I miss him."_

"_I know honey, but you've got to move past this stage. It's not healthy and this is not the girl you want Lucas coming home to." She explained gently. And Peyton really would have loved to have been mad at her, but she was right. This wasn't who she was, and this certainly wasn't what she wanted Lucas to think of her. She went to bed that night with those thoughts in mind and woke up the next morning with a renewed mind set. She still missed him, but life had to go on and Brooke was just the person to help her figure out how._

That had been two months ago. They were already toward the end of November. Her birthday was in less than a week and Thanksgiving the day after. She knew from the beginning that Lucas wouldn't be coming home for fall break, but the closer she got to the actual event the harder it was on her emotions. She couldn't even remember a birthday without him. Thanksgiving wouldn't be too bad (she hoped). Nathan was coming home to spend the week at home while Haley flew to Phoenix to visit one of her sisters. She drummed her fingers against the notebook she was drawing in and pushed herself off the bed. No sense in crying over things she couldn't change.

* * *

He missed her. With every fiber in him he missed her. He missed the way she laughed, not just the sound, he could hear that through the phone, but he missed the way her entire body laughed with the noise. The way her nose crinkled and her mouth opened wide. How one elbow would bend and her feet would do a little jig. He missed her laugh.

He missed her smile; the ones that she reserved only for him- and there were a lot of them. She had an amazing smile. Wide and flamboyant, soft and inviting, sexy and coy he loved them all. Admittedly the latter maybe a little more than the others but right now he'd be happy to see any of them. He missed the way her eyes would light up when he'd walk into the room and the spark they'd hold when she was angry. He missed the way she would touch him, hold him, kiss him and how she would let him do the same to her. Knowing that no one else had ever been privy to those parts of her.

He just missed her.

He thought coming up an extra week early was one of the best ideas he'd had. They'd drive up together. He was eighteen and she had no one at home to tell her not to, Keith had taken a two-year temporary position in Charleston and it was going to be like a little vacation or a little pre-honeymoon as he had been thinking. He could get unpacked and settled into his new apartment, one that he prided himself on not having to share. But then she'd said no, she wasn't coming with him. He didn't understand why she would want to stay in Tree Hill alone, but he didn't question her. He wishes, now, that he had. That'd he'd pushed her a little, but he'd learned years ago that you can't push Peyton Sawyer- unless, of course, you were trying to push her away and he certainly wasn't going to do that.

That first month after he'd arrived had been hell. He was having a hard time adjusting to his demanding schedule and keeping up with his assignments. He made sure to call Peyton everyday but there were times when it was difficult at best. It nearly ripped his heart out every time to hear her crying on the other end and not being able to comfort her; hold her.

But then overnight, seemingly, the tears stopped and she became Peyton again. His Peyton. Laughing, joking and talking as if there were still just a two lane road and a street light separating them and not 600 miles. He had forced down the jealously toward whatever or whoever it was that made her get over him (although he knew really that she hadn't) and helped her move on, and focused on that positive- that she was happy.

That was two months ago. Now he sat as his computer checking his email for the 12th time that day to see if she'd replied to the one he'd sent that morning. She hadn't. Her birthday was next week and Thanksgiving that same weekend, she was probably with Brooke or Deb or both planning for those events. And here he sat, alone. He had finished his last mid-term that morning and had nothing to do for the coming weekend, the coming two weekends. And he was an idiot. Why had he made the decision to stay in New York for the holiday? A place with no family, no real friends. No Peyton. Right, to save money. But then again, it wasn't his money, so he wasn't really saving anything. Yeah, he obviously hadn't thought that one through.

But maybe it wasn't too late. He could call his dad and tell him he'd changed his mind; if he left early tomorrow morning he could be there by that evening. Of course if he left now he could be there tomorrow afternoon. A smile split his face as he went to get a suit case out from under his bed. He'd call his dad from the road.


	2. Baby, I'm Home

Title by Trace Adkins

A BIG thank you to Kate for beta-ing this for me. I know it was a chore.

* * *

"Here try this one," Brooke said as she chucked a green printed dress into the changing room. Peyton changed dutifully, stepping out of the room, twirling around, awaiting the seal of approval or look of reproach. It was the former.

Stepping back into the room she stripped off the garment and hurriedly put her own clothes back on, lest Brooke bring her something new. It had become somewhat of a birthday tradition, shopping with Brooke, but they were working on their 6th hour and Peyton was getting moody.

"OK my little P. let's go put some food in your grouchy belly," Brooke chirped after they had made their purchases.

"It's about time," she grumbled as she picked up her six bags and followed Brooke out of the department store towards the food court. When they found a table they sat down, slid the next nearest one over next to theirs and threw all of their bags on top of it. Brooke's eight combined with her own produced quite a little mountain of purchases. "You think we over did it?"

"Oh, honey, there's no such thing." Brooke waved. "What are you getting? I was thinking sushi."

Peyton made a gagging sound before heading in the direction of the pizza stand. When she got back with hers, Brooke walked across lobby for her own.

"So when's Nate getting' back?" Peyton questioned around a mouthful of food once Brooke sat down.

Pulling out her chop sticks, the brunette's head cocked to the side as she tried to put the dates together with a timeline. "Monday? I think." She rolled the sticks together briskly.

"Why do you do that?"

"Huh?" She looked up, a California roll tucked securely between the pieces of wood.

"Why do you always rub the sticks together like that?"

"I don't know. I've always seen everyone else do it," she shrugged. "I guess it's like custom or something like that." She watched as her blond friend nodded, perfectly spiraled curls bobbing with the motion. A tinge of jealously flittered briefly through her mind. She often gave Peyton a hard time for not putting more effort into how she looked, but even she could admit, albeit reluctantly, that she really didn't need to. She was pretty without the effort. But she also knew that with just a little more makeup and the right clothes she could have the boys lining up outside her door. Or more boys lining up. Or whatever, she knew what she meant. "So how's lover boy?"

Peyton let out a deep sigh. "I don't know. He hasn't returned my call."

"Oh. Well that's….unusual." she said with a frown, "When was the last time you spoke?"

"He emailed me yesterday morning and I tried calling him last night but he didn't answer. He hasn't picked up today either."

"Well, I'm sure if it was anything serious Keith would have called you." Brooke consoled. "So what do you want to do next? Where to?" she had to change the direction of the conversation, the mood was quickly going south.

"I'm kinda tired of shopping." She glanced up at the glass ceiling and noticed the black clouds overhead. "They said something on the radio about a storm coming in tonight; looks like it might be here early. Maybe we should head out."

Brooke's bottom lip pouted as she followed her gaze and had to agree that they should cut their afternoon short. "You wanna stay over? I know how you feel about these things?"

"No, that's ok. Hey, you know maybe we could stop somewhere on the way home."

"Yeah sure." She agreed standing up to carry her tray to the garbage.

On the way home they stopped at a house wares store so Peyton could pick up some candles and a new album. The rain had just started coming down when Brooke dropped her off at her house. "You think you'll be ok driving home?" Peyton asked concerned.

Brooke chuckled, "I live four blocks away, I think I'll make it."

"OK. Be careful," she cautioned as she pulled the last of her bags out of the car. She slammed the door shut hollering a _call me when you get there_ over a loud clap of thunder.

She opened her door and took her purchases upstairs. After dumping them on the bed she walked into the adjoining bathroom and started to the fill the tub with hot water. She tossed in a scoop of vanilla and lavender sea salts as her cell began to ring.

"Hello." She said breathlessly after running to grab the phone, silencing the voice of Michael Jackson as he belted out the lyrics of 'Pretty Young Thing', the ringtone Brooke had chosen for herself.

"Hey _Mom_, just calling to tell you that I weathered the storm and made it home alive." She spoke dryly.

"Hey now missy, don't sass me for caring," she teased.

"I'm not. Everything ok there?"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to soak in the tub and let Lady Antebellum serenade me for a while." She said as she tore the plastic off the new CD and popped it into the player. "I'll probably go to bed." She headed back toward the bathroom pulling her clothes off as she went.

"Oooo, exciting night." She laughed. "OK, well I'll call you tomorrow. Bye."

"See ya later B." she pressed the red End button and set the phone on the counter, sinking down into the hot water.

Forty-five minutes later she was dressed in a new sage green satin tank trimmed in beige lace and matching panties- a gift from Brooke about a month after Lucas had left. She told her that just because her boyfriend was MIA didn't mean that she couldn't still dress up to feel good. She didn't bother to mention that she had never _dressed up_ when Lucas _was_ here. Not something she'd usually wear she noted as she caught her reflection in the mirror, but she had to admit that it put a smile on her face having something a little more extravagant. _Oh if Lucas could see her now_,he'd probably have a heart attack.

She put away her purchases and pulled the various candles out of their bags setting them on different surfaces throughout her room. The sky outside was pitch black now and if she wasn't mistaken that was no longer rain falling but hail. She'd been through enough of these North Carolina storms to be prepared for what could happen next. Blackout. She lit the candles counting them as she did _42, 43, 44. _Maybe she went a little overboard but you could never be too prepared_._ She briefly thought about grabbing the fire extinguisher just in case, but decided against it. Walking over to the CD player she hit play again before pressing repeat so she didn't have to keep getting up. She decided to call Lucas again.

Her hands shook as she picked the phone up out of the bathroom and walked back to the middle of the room. Why was she so nervous? He's probably just been busy. She pressed #1 and Send and waited. The lights flickered off and back on but she doesn't notice as she held her breath while it rang until finally a familiar voice came on the other end. _Hello you've reached the voicemail…_ With a scream she threw the phone against the wall in front of her and watched bitterly as it popped into three pieces. She groaned in frustration, huffing out a '_Shit'_ before stomping over to pick up the offending plastic.

* * *

He wiped his palms on the leg of his jeans as he sat at the stop light. They'd started sweating the second he'd passed the 'Welcome to Tree Hill' sign coming into town. He'd been driving all night. His plan had been to drive straight through and get to Tree Hill by the early afternoon and surprise Peyton. Admittedly, leaving Friday night probably wasn't the best idea, he'd had to pull over three hours in and take a nap. Once he'd crossed the North Carolina boarder a storm had moved in and had worked against him relentlessly to keep him from her. From Peyton. But he was here now; one stop sign and two right turns and she'd be his.

He kept the car in first gear as he drove down their street, her street. He passed houses he had grown up around but didn't notice any of them, his mind intent on the white colonial. He turned into her driveway trying to keep the engine quiet on the old Mustang as he pulled up to the house and put the car in park. When he stepped out of the car and was assailed by large chucks of hail; he needn't have worried about the noise of his car, the thick ice hitting the roof surely would have covered for him.

He pulled his duffel bag out of the back seat and didn't waste time with the cobblestone path, instead taking large steps right across the lawn and up the steps of her front porch. He took a deep breath before reaching for the handle. Calming his racing heart he turned his hand to the right but it didn't move. With a frustrated growl he dropped his head back. _Locked. I spend years trying to get her to lock the door and the _one_ time I'm counting on it being open the damn things locked!_ He looked under the mat and the plant next to the door for a key, coming up empty. _If I were Peyton where would I put the spare?_ He thought. He chuckled when it came to him and picked up his bag heading around back. _If I were Peyton, I wouldn't _have_ a spare._

The door to the kitchen opened effortlessly. He shed his shoes and coat leaving them by the door, being sure to lock it as he did so. Shaking the water out of his hair he dropped his bag on the table and silently moved down the hall. He was dead tired, but he didn't care, he'd spent the last twelve hours, last four months, waiting for this, thinking about this, about her.

He quietly walked up the stairs taking in the music coming through her doorway. He'd never heard this song before, but then again he'd never heard many of the songs she'd played before. Thunder clapped loudly outside the house and the lights flickered off and on; he froze, waiting to see if she came out of her room. Peyton hated storms. She hated the dark. _He had picked the perfect night to come home_, he thought with a smile. When nothing happened he made his way to the top of the stairs, side stepping the creaking board that had always betrayed him before.

And there she was.

His mouth went dry as he stood there taking her in. She was standing not ten feet away from him, glowing in candle light, with her back to the door, on the phone, wearing only what he would classify as lingerie. And she looked amazing.

He jumped when a small crash pulled him from his trance and he held in a laugh when she cursed. He'd hate to be whoever was on the other end of that call.

His mouth fell open when she bent over to pick up the busted phone and her panties rode even higher on her cheeks; he had to force it closed. He stuffed his hand into the pockets of his jeans while he watched her look dismally at the pieces in her hands. The board that he had been so conscious of just moments before creaked as he leaned against the door frame and her head jerked up in alarm.

Neither moved or made a sound, they just stood there staring at each other until finally he heard her husky voice, "Lucas?" He smiled but didn't move from where he stood propped up. He was dying to touch her but he was hesitant, not sure where her head was at or what the boundaries were yet. He was hoping there are none, but he knew that distance could complicate things and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable so he'd let her make the first move.

"Oh my God." She breathed as she walked towards him dropping the remaining pieces of the phone on the floor. He braced his body and slightly lifted his arms for the embrace that was sure to come and he was almost disappointed when it didn't happen. Almost.

When she reached him, a whisper of his name left her lips a second time just before they were pressed against his. Her lips against his and her hands cupping his cheeks would make up for that full body contact he was just prepared for. Who was he kidding? No, it won't. He responded immediately, pulling her towards him and burying a hand in her hair as her arms encircled his neck. He kissed her hard, passionately; he had so much time to make up for and he had been wanting this for far too long.

He pushed her far enough back into the room to get the door closed and locked behind him. He'd texted Brooke when he pulled into the town NOT to come over tomorrow but he wasn't going to take any chances. A moan slipped past his lips when Peyton's arms unlocked from around his neck and her fingers glided down his torso, only to slide back up underneath the cotton of his shirt, lightly tracing the muscles of his abs.

He pulled away just enough to whisper huskily, "God, Peyton I've missed you." The right corner of her mouth twitched up, which he promptly kissed, and he noticed the tears in her eyes for the first time.

"I know," she croaked out before his lips devoured hers again. His tongue slipped into the heat of her mouth and he used the hand he had buried in her curls to tug on her hair, angling her head back, he deepened their kiss; they both moaned at the contact.

"I love you," he murmured as he started pushing her backwards toward the bed.

"I know," she repeated with her eyes still closed, a coy smile on her lips. His knees nearly buckled, God, how he has missed _those_ smiles. His lips fell to the juncture of her jaw and her neck and he slowly made his way down the nape. He bit down where her neck met her shoulder and it was her turn to go weak in the knees. She gasped a "Luke" and felt him smirk against her shoulder. She felt the strap of her camisole drop down one shoulder and she pulled away from him long enough to pull his t-shirt over his head.

She stepped back to admire him, he'd certainly filled out. "Have you been working out?" She asked her first question of the night. He shrugged one shoulder as he stalked near to her and she knewthat was his way of affirming that he was. He placed his right hand low on her hip and his thumb slipped beneath her top. She sucked in a breath as he gave her a slight push back and her legs hit the side of her bed.

She placed her knees on the bed behind her as he stood there staring at her, taking her in. Her blond hair formed a perfect frame around her beautiful face as she knelt there staring back at him. Her large emerald eyes begging him to do _something, _anything. He shook his head gently, as if to clear his mind, and his lips turned into a grin. She cocked an eyebrow at him as she reached forward and tucked four fingers into the front of his pants, just behind his belt. She heard him suck in a breath as she tugged him forward and looked up to see his blue eyes rivaling the sky outside in color.

"You are _so_ beautiful, Peyton." He whispered as he pulled her hand away from the waist band of his pants. He raised it to his mouth and without breaking eye contact, placed a kiss on each one of her finger tips. "Gorgeous." He watched as her eyes closed and he lifted his other hand to caress her cheek. She was so precious to him; he really thought she had no idea. But he was willing to spend the rest of his life showing her.

He stepped a knee up on the bed just to the right of hers; leaning forward, he forced her back and his left hand fell to the bed to brace himself as his body followed hers to the mattress.

She felt like she was drowning in a sea of blue as his eyes bored into hers, never breaking contact. The intensity was smothering as her back hit the mattress and her head landed on the pillow. Lucas slowly followed her, bracing his weight with one hand. His other hand was gripping her hip before she felt it moving higher, under her camisole. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes when his callous fingers glided over her rib cage. He stopped just below her breast and she moaned as his lips cover hers. He withdrew his hand and traveled the same pattern over her shirt. This time his hand didn't stop and his thumb smoothed over her breast. Her mouth fell open at the sensation because his body was resting lightly against hers, his hips pressed enticingly against hers and his lips were on her neck and his hand was on her breast and there was fire in her belly and she just _did not_ know what to focus on.

He whispered her name as his lips crossed her collar bone and she had never liked the sound of her name better than when it was coming from his mouth. She used a hand to grip each side of his face and pulled him back to her waiting mouth. Her lips consumed his and she felt more of his weight fall against her. She bent her knees toward the ceiling to make more room for him and his hand immediately fell to the bare expanse of her thigh, trailing a pattern from her knee to her hip. He arched against her once and she let out a little noise that was either appreciation or pleasure or something; he was dying to hear it again.

He rolled them over so she was lying against him and she used her hands against his chest to push herself up. He sat up, too, and her legs wrapped around his waist. He leaned forward to kiss her but she pulled back playfully. He tried again and she pulled back a second time, teasing him. He smiled and dropped his mouth to her shoulder, relenting. He placed small kisses against her shoulder and smirked when he heard her low pitched "oh". He lowered his mouth to her collar bone and nipped at the tender flesh before he made his way back to her now eager mouth.

Her hands wrapped around his shoulders when his mouth found hers and she rocked unconsciously against him when his hands dropped low on her hips. She pulled away, mouth open, eyes shut when she felt his hands working their way up her camisole. Losing her lips, his trailed once again to her neck, one of his favorite places to kiss her. Her hands trailed down his arms, squeezing his biceps, fingers flitted across his firm chest before moving back to his neck and pulling his mouth back to hers. His hands cupped her breasts momentarily before he pulled the satin over her head.

Relieved of her top she took a moment to look at him, blue eyes staring right back into hers. She noticed that he didn't look down like he maybe (probably) wanted to, he just looked at her. She smirked and leaned in slowly to place a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth. When she pulled back his eyes were closed and she knew he was doing one of two things. A) He was savoring the moment or B) he was trying to regain some control. Possibly a mix of both, but she was going to play on the latter.

She leaned back placing her hands on his knees and she rocked her hips slowly into his. He sucked in a breath and when he opened his eyes there were the most brilliant shade of green staring back at him, emerald with specks of gold and even a little blue.

He watched his hands as they reach forward, almost on their own accord, to palm the breasts of this beautiful girl in front of him. His girl. He shook his head in awe as his thumbs flitted over the hard peaks of her nipples. He moved his hands to her sides and raked them down to her hips, pulling her firmly against him. He closed his eyes at the sensation and pulled her up to kiss him. Her fingers traced around his waist band from back to front and stopped at his belt. He heard the metal clacking and felt her fingers feather against him in the most delicious movement.

She undid the button and zip on his pants slowly and reached her hand into his boxers. She looked up confused when his hand stopped her but his eyes were closed. They opened a second later and he chuckled, shaking his head. Her confused eyes stared back at him and he whisperd, "Nuh-uh, I want you."

"You have me." She insisted.

"No. I want you Peyton. All of me and all of you." He explained quietly as he carefully eased her off of his lap and stood up to remove his pants.

"Then take me," she said with a smirk as she lied back against the mattress just waiting for him to do as she said.

He didn't make her wait long. He pulled her panties down her legs and started kissing his way back up, starting at her ankle to the inside of her thigh. He reached her center and inhaled deeply, and the scent of her is was much. She was offering him everything he had been wanting and he couln't wait any longer. He quickly moved to her mouth and she adjusted her legs to create more room for him, knowing what he needed. He entered her the same time his tongue touched hers and if there wasn't a storm raging outside she was sure the neighbors would have heard their noises of pleasure.

He didn't move for a full minute. An entire sixty seconds he stayed there, unmoving, relishing in the feel of the tight warmth around him. He heard Peyton's whispered plea of his name and felt her shift beneath him and it pulled him out of his trance. He started moving slowly, out….in….out….in, while he continued to kiss her mouth. His hand movedg from her thigh, to her buttocks, up her ribs to her breast and back again all in continuous movement. Her hips rose to meet his thrusts and he dropped his head with a groan. He was trying to last for her; she was making it damn near impossible.

He lowers his head to cover her breast with his mouth and she let out a curse when his tongue circled her nipple. Slow is all well and good but she was very nearly ready to hurt him if he didn't give her more. "Lucas" she pleaded, "faster."

Lucas looked up and shook his head, "Peyton…I…" he let out another moan when her legs locked around his waist pulling him further into her**.** He stopped moving completely and she looked like she was very nearly ready to kill him. "I won't last." He choked. She tightened her legs and rocked against him and he had to relent. He couldn't not.

"Come with me?" he pleaded as he looked into her eyes and his free hand dropped between them. She was looking at him curiously, he had never done this before, never needed to, until he hit his target and started slow deliberate circles over the mark. She let out a moan of pleasure and her eyes fell shut. And he felt almost…cheated. That was until she whispered his name, and he realized quickly that he'd do absolutely anything to hear his name laced with such intense pleasure coming from her lips.

He was moving quickly now. His thumb was moving furiously against her and he was moving frantically within her. She felt the tension quickly build in her belly and she really _really_ didn't want to go before him. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and she had one hand gripping firmly to his bicep, her other moved between them and grabbed his hand pulling it out and over their heads, fingers interlocked.

He knew she was close when she pulled his hand out from between him, locking them above their heads. He wouldn't complain he would give her whatever she needed. Her legs tightened around him and her hips rose to meet him thrust for thrust. She was mumbling incoherent words and making impossibly sexy noises and he sped up because he couldn't _not_ give her what her body was begging for.

He picked up the tempo again, dropping kisses to her neck and shoulder and she couldn't control the words she was saying or the noises she was making. He was looking at her like she was perfect and every look was just the best look and every touch was the best touch. Every thrust was just a little better than the one before and before she even had time to warn him she was clinching tightly around him and calling his name. She knew he was coming too by the way his head dropped to her shoulder and the deepness of his breaths. And then it was over and she was the best kind of exhausted.

* * *

A distinct smell assailed her senses when she woke the next morning. Reaching over for Lucas and finding his spot empty, her eyes opened slowly. It hadn't been a dream, she was too deliriously happy and her body was to pleasurably sore for that to be the case. And what was that smell?

She threw her legs over the side of the bed, the blankets falling to her waist just as Lucas walked into her room carrying a try.

"He-_ey_," his tone changed as he caught sight of her.

She quickly covered herself, suddenly embarrassed. "Hey," she replied meekly. "Whatcha got there?"

"Breakfast," he replied cheekily. He chose to ignore her sudden embarrassment and climbed onto the bed next to her, leaning against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him with the tray on his lap.

Peyton took in his face, "Pizza!" she grabbed a slice off of the plate. "My favorite."

"I know." he stated proudly, "It was also the only thing in your fridge."

"It may have been a little while since I went to the store," she replied rather sheepishly. He gave her an admonishing stare and she took another bite. "So we didn't really get a chance to talk last night."

"No- we- didn't" he replied lowly as he leaned down to kiss her shoulder. He laughed when she swatted at his chest, a blush coming to her cheeks. He had to smile; he'd forgotten how cute she got when she was all out of sorts. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Everything," she shrugged. "_Why_ you're here, how long you're here. School. God, Lucas I haven't seen you in four months I'm sure you can think of something." She grinned.

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of her disheveled head. "I'm here because I couldn't stand to go one more day without looking into your beautiful green eyes, and kissing your perfect lips. Knowing I didn't have to made it that much worse so after my last final Friday I hopped in the car and drove here. I'm here for a week, you're birthday and Thanksgiving included in that. And school would be great, but it doesn't have you so it…sucks basically." He gave her a grin.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes as she sat the now empty tray on the floor, he always was a bit of a charmer. "Well, you're here for a week, what do you have planned for today?"

He hummed low in his throat as he nuzzled her neck, "more of what we've been doing," he murmured.

"Oh yeah?" she questioned haughtily turning her body to face him. "Well," she placed one finger nail at his neck and began tracing it down his still naked torso, "I guess it has been a while since you held me hostage in my bed." She husked.

This made him laugh.

"Peyton I have _never_ held you hostage in your bed."

"True," she conceded, "but that doesn't mean that I didn't _think_ about you doing it."

But that got his attention.

Her finger reached the waist band on his boxers and he had to clear his throat before he said, "And what else did you think about?"

She took in the arch to his eyebrows and the smirk on his lips; he was clearly quite proud. She bit her lip when she shook her head. Her eyes dancing in mirth.

He rolled on top of her, pinning her to the mattress and tried not to gloat when her eyes slid shut. "Well, I guess you're just going to have to show me." He husked as pulled the sheet away from her body. He heard her whisper _oh, God_ when dropped his lips to replace it.

* * *

"Oh my gosh!" Brooke squealed as she came running up to Peyton's locker Monday morning. She stood there for a few seconds staring wide eyed at the blond. "So?" she tapped her foot impatiently.

"So what?" Peyton chuckled.

Brooke crossed her arms and scowled, "I know Lucas came home this weekend. I want details. All of them." Peyton gave her a patronizing smile. "Did you have sex?" she demanded.

"Brooke!" she hissed.

"Oh my gosh, you did. Of course you did!"

"Brooke seriously, people can hear you."

"So, he's your man. They know that," she waved her hand careless in the air. "How was it?"

A small grin played on Peyton's lips as she simply said, "It was…Lucas."

"Agh," the brunette groaned, "like I seriously _remember_ what he was like. I want details. Was he good?" At Peyton's stunned expression she added a "What?"

"What did you say?" she asked.

"If he was good." She stated again.

"Before that." She whispered.

"How was it?" Brooke asked confused.

"_After_ that," she gritted out.

"That I don't…" she stopped and looked at Peyton, alarmed. "You didn't…" she shook her head trying to clear her thoughts, "you mean you don't…he didn't…"

"Yeah." Peyton interrupted, "That about sums it up." She bit as she brushed quickly past her best friend.

"_Shit_" Brooke grumbled as she rummaged through her bag for her cell phone. She dialed a familiar number and waited for an answer, "Lucas Scott, the ass that has no limits. You didn't tell her!"

* * *

After receiving Brooke's phone call, Lucas found himself at the River Court trying to clear his head. Brooke had said that 'Peyton _knew_'. He didn't catch on at first, thus infuriating Brooke that she had to explain what it was that their curly blonde was now privy to. Apparently Peyton hadn't taken the revelation very well. _Not that I thought she would_, he reminded himself as he sent up another shot. There had been a reason, many of them actually, why they had agreed not to tell anyone.

He sent up another shot, and like the 30 some odd before that one, it clinked against the rim.

"Getting rusty old man," he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Nathan Scott," he tucked the ball to his hip turning around. "What brings the newest star of the Blue Devils back to Tree Hill?" he questioned as they met at the half court line, bumping fists.

"Food," he laughed.

"Of course" he smiled and looked down.

"So what's up with you and Peyton?" Nathan questioned breezily, grabbing the ball from Lucas and sinking a shot from where he stood. A full blown smirk on his face as he turned to face the blond.

"What makes you think something's up with us?" he questioned a little in awe of the shot he'd witnessed.

Nathan shrugged, "the only times you ever missed a free throw it was because of her." Lucas sighed. "That bad huh?"

"She found out I slept with Brooke." He confided.

"You slept with Brooke?" he questioned unbelieving.

"You haven't?" he challenged.

"No. I haven't" by the look Lucas was giving him it was obvious that he didn't believe him. "She lived with me man that would have made things a little weird. She was like… my sister."

"Right. But as everyone felt so inclined to point out to me about Peyton, she's not your sister."

"You're right, she's not." He conceded, "You know this totally gives me right to kick your ass." He informed the blond.

Lucas looked over amused, his smirk disappearing when he realized the taller and now more muscular brunette was serious. "You think I cheated on Peyton? It didn't just happen," he was quick to inform; "it was years ago."

"Then what's the problem?" noting Lucas' look he drew his own conclusion, "she doesn't know," he said more to himself.

"Well, she does now. Brooke told her."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

They walked over to the bleachers and sat down. "Peyton's…_usually_… pretty rational. Just explain it to her."

"I don't want to explain it to her. I wanted to forget about it."

"Well, if she already knows about it, she's going to want answers." Nathan thought as he looked out at the river over Lucas' head. "Either that or she'll be so pissed she won't want to hear anything."

Lucas sent him a glare and stood up. "I don't know what I'm going to do," he paused and took a deep breath. "I better take off; I should probably be there when she gets home."

"Alright man, see ya later. But, regardless, I better see both of your blond heads at my house on Turkey Day." He warned.

"We'll be there," he promised and started to walk away.

"Hey Luke!" he called out waiting for the other boy/man to turn around. "Don't say anything stupid." He watched as Lucas nodded and continued out of the park.

* * *

Peyton slowly made her way up the stairs to her room. She had made it through the day on autopilot and all she wanted to do was lie down on her bed and have a good cry. Catching a whiff of Lucas' cologne on her way up, she knew that wasn't going to happen.

He was sitting on the edge of her bed when she walked in, sending an accusatory glance his way as she walked passed him to toss her bag and coat on her desk.

"Peyt-"

She turned around with fire in her eyes. "Yes?" she prompted; deathly calm.

"I talked to Brooke," he stood and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans.

"Apparently that's not all you've done," she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Don't do that," he pointed a finger at her; lowered it at her raised eyebrow. "Don't make this about now."

"Well, I'm just _now_ finding out about it, so what timeline do you suggest I use?" she challenged.

"It happened a long time ago. It didn't mean _anything_." He stated passionately. Pleadingly, she noticed.

"She's 17 Lucas, just how long ago can we possibly be talking about?"

"Peyton," he shook his head, his eyes pleading with hers, "It wasn't- I mean- It-"

She felt the tears sting her eyes as he stumbled over his words. "How did- Whe-," she stopped and drew in a deep breath, forcing her eyes to the ceiling, "She's my best friend Lucas," her voice was a forced whisper, but she wasn't crying.

"I know that," he chanced a step toward her. "I'm sorry. It never should have happened and I probably should have told you about it sooner-"

"Probably?" she questioned, rolling her eyes in disgust and turning to walk to the French doors that led to her balcony. The same one she used to sit at and watch Lucas in his bedroom across the street.

"I knew you would be mad," he tried to explain. "And it's not something I'm proud of." He followed her to the double doors, standing mere inches behind her as he tried to plead his case. He had hoped that Brooke had over reacted when she'd explained Peyton's reaction from earlier; he quickly realized that she hadn't. He had never intended to hurt her. Never. But he honestly thought it would be best for her to not know. Ever. He was quickly realizing that full disclosure was probably the only way to keep this night from ending in utter heartbreak.

"Two years ago," he started quietly. "We scrimmaged Anchor Point that night and there was a party at Jake's house to kick off the official start of the season." He paused to take a breath, the scent of her coconut shampoo assailed his senses and he was brutally reminded of everything he had to lose.

"You told me not to go to that party," her thick voice indicating to him that she remembered the night he was referring to. "You said that there was going to be alcohol and his parents were out of town and that it was really just for the seniors anyway.'"

He swallowed the thick lump in his throat- she'd quoted him. "That was all true. But Brooke was there-"

"Of course," the falsetto of her voice giving away her bitterness.

"She got drunk," he went on to explain, "I knew Deb would kill her if she went home like that so I told her I'd bring her here. Only, when I got here-"

"I wouldn't let her stay," she finished for him. "I was tired of her showing up drunk every weekend and I was tired of being the one who had to take care of her. And I was mad at you for letting her go and not me," she turned around to look at him. "Then you told me that if she was really my friend I would stop being so judgmental of her and accept who she is." Peyton watched as he bobbed his head up and down in remembrance of that evening.

Her posture went rigid when he spoke of the following comments, "Then you told me that it was all probably part of her plan anyway. That she intentionally got drunk." He shook his head as he watched her eyes fill with tears; she knew what was coming next. "You insinuated that we'd been sleeping together all along. I was mad, Peyton. I didn't do it to hurt you, I swear, but I _was_ mad at you. And Brooke….was there….offering a free pass. And-"

"Stop" she stated, her hands were covering her ears as she paced away from him. Large green eyes, filled with tears and mortification, begged him.

"I thought you wanted to kno-"

"No." her head shook adamantly, "just stop." Her knees locked setting her on the edge of the bed; she couldn't listen to this, the recounting of his night with her best friend.

"Peyton," he started gently. "You knew before we got together that there had been other girls."

At her look of disgust he realized that that was probably one of the _stupid things_ that Nathan had warned him about. "Yes, but I didn't think I would know any of them." She pointed out harshly.

"Well, actually," he rubbed his neck over the back of his neck, "You probably know just about all of them." He heard her sharp intake of breath and her narrow eyes warned him. _Shut up, shut up_ kept repeating over and over in his head. Whatever editing tool that was supposed to be in his brain to keep his mouth from saying certain things was obviously malfunctioning. He sighed. "When it was over, we both knew it was wrong. We agreed not to tell you- not to tell anyone. Peyton, it didn't-"

"Mean anything. I know." she glanced at him shaking her head. "I can't think about this anymore."

"Peyton," he breathed out her name and came to kneel in front of her. His glassy eyes pleading with hers, "I…I need you to tell me that we're going to be okay." He whispered; his voice thick.

"I think you should go."

"Peyt" he brought her hand to his lips, his teeth gently nibbled on her knuckles. "Please, I love you. I-"

"No, Lucas. This is all just…. Too much. I need you to go."

"Peyton," his strangled whisper begged her.

"No Lucas," she stood up. "I'm going to take a shower; I don't want you here when I get out." Her voice caught at the end, but he knew she was serious. Unfortunately he had never been able to deny a request made by Peyton Sawyer, even when he knew it wasn't for the best. So he nodded his compliance.

* * *

It was late when he showed up, around eleven or so and she was lying flat on her back against her bed wearing a black wife beater type tank and a pair of hot pink underwear. He smirked; he really hadn't taken her as the hot pink type of girl. Boys II Men was playing on the stereo and the rain patted out a steady pattern against the window. Her hair was a wild untamed mess of golden curls, her nose was red and even with her eyes closed he could tell they were swollen. She was beautiful.

"I knew you'd be happy to see me, but I really don't think Haley would approve." Her eyes popped open to where he was standing at the door, smirk in place. She rolled her eyes but didn't move to stand up, only pulling the side of the blanket over her legs.

"Hey Nate," she scooted over to make room for him on the bed. "What are you doing over here?"

He shrugged and lay down next to her and gave her a flirty smile, "What would Lucas say now if he knew you were in bed with his best friend?"

"Probably something along the lines of 'paybacks a bitch'" she grumbled.

He nodded, looking down at her from where he had his head perched on his hand, "He told you about Brooke?"

"You _knew_?" she accused vehemently.

"Whoa, pull back the throttle. Only since about three o'clock this afternoon." She seemed to relax at that, "how'd it go?"

"My boyfriend explained how he ended up having sex with my best friend- how do you think it went?" she rolled over so her back was facing him.

"He wasn't your boyfriend when it happened."

"I know, but I wanted him to be," she confessed, turning back around to face him. "Brooke knew that," she whispered.

"I think we all knew that, expect for Lucas." He looked into her big green eyes. He had always harbored a small crush on the girl, but she had always, knowingly or otherwise, belonged to Lucas- he was seriously ready to pommel the guy earlier when he found out about his lack in judgment. "So who are you madder at- Brooke or Lucas?"

"I'm not really mad," at his disbelieving grin she added an, "anymore. Now I'm just…."

"Hurt?" he guessed. When her eyes filled with tears he knew he'd hit the nail on the head. "You know he loves you?" she nodded and he put a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest while she cried. He was getting used to this roll, he'd gladly take it, he just wished he didn't need to quite so often.

* * *

He laid flat on his back in bed staring at the ceiling. He'd given up trying to go to sleep hours ago and now listened to the rain falling outside. He knew he shouldn't have done it, but that had nothing to do with Peyton. They hadn't been together at the time. But everything had to do with Peyton. Brooke was a close friend, and at the time he had been ashamed because he felt like he had taken advantage of her. The more time that passed, however, he felt as if she had taken advantage of him. She would often use their little secret as leverage, threatening to tell. But after a year or so, that had worn off and Brooke had seemed to grow up.

He was pulled from his thoughts when his window slid open and he sat up in bed. One long leg followed by a body and another long leg emerged through the opening and the window slid shut again. She shed her shoes and pants before climbing into the bed with him. He let out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. He put an arm around her shoulders and another around her waist pulling her into him.

"I love you too," she whispered as she tucked into his side and felt him place a kiss at the top of her head.

He couldn't leave it at that. Using his thumb and forefinger he tipped her chin up to look at him through the darkness, the street light outside shining just enough light into the window the make out her face. "Peyton, I need you to know that those girls- all of them- none of them meant anything to me. I- you're the only girl I've ever loved. You're the only one I've ever made love to."

She nodded, she'd known that, but it was nice to hear. Reaching up she placed a slow lingering kiss to his lips before letting her head fall back to his chest, both of them falling asleep almost immediately.

* * *

The next two days proved to be somewhat trying on the four-some. Peyton, feeling as if her world had been set slightly off kilter with the news, didn't know how to act around Lucas anymore. Lucas who could never be happy if Peyton was upset, knew that she wasn't ok and concerned that things weren't back to normal between the two of them. Nathan, who was best friends with Lucas, but had Peyton's back 100%; and Brooke who felt as if she'd been shunned by everyone.

Thanksgiving Day dawned bright and sunny with just enough of a chill in the air to denote the upcoming winter. Lucas stepped out of his house and breathed in the crisp November air as he made his way to Peyton's front door. He hadn't anticipated sleeping at his own house this week, but he'd give her whatever space she thought she needed. He just wanted things back to normal. He rang the door bell and waited for her to answer.

"What are you doing standing out here?" she questioned as she pulled the front door open. The simple black dress she wore perfectly accentuated every curve. From the thin spaghetti straps on her shoulders, to the deep v cut of the neck line, to the small ribbon tie at her waist, down to the hem line that sat just above her knee. Her blond curls held in perfect rings and her smokey lids- it all left him more than a little distracted.

"I was- uh- waiting?" The door had been locked for the past two days.

"Well get in here it's cold," she pulled him in but left him in the foyer as she went back upstairs. She felt a twinge of guilt as she left him standing there without inviting him up- but when had she ever had to invite him up? He looked amazing in his black dress pants and blue button up with his matching tie and suit coat. She took a deep breath as she gathered her things and headed downstairs. "You ready?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah" he stood and walked to her where she stood by the door. "Peyton, you look beauty-"

"We should get going," she cut him off without looking at him. "Don't want to keep them waiting." Without glancing his way she opened the door and walked to his car across the street.

"Right" he whispered to no one in particular. He locked her front door and slowly made his way to his Mustang, trying to think of something, anything, to get them out of this pothole and back to where they had been four days ago.

They walked up the front steps of the other Scott house and he boldly reached his fingertips out rest oh so lightly against the small of her back while they waited for someone to answer the door.

"I like your dress," he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"You would," she spoke with censure," Brooke picked it out."

He let out a disgruntled sigh just as the front door swung open. "You made it!" came Deb's happy voice, "Nathan said he wasn't sure if you would, but I told him there was no way you two wouldn't show up. Come on in, take off your coats," she ushered as she closed the door behind them. "Brooke and Nathan are downstairs in the basement.

"Don't you think you should put the slut away today?" she heard behind her. Spinning around on her patent red hell, her mouth fell open in indignation.

"I do not look like a slut!" Brooke insisted. "It's because it's red isn't it?"

"Or maybe because it's on _you,_" Nathan sneered.

A noise of disbelief passed through her painted lips as she pressed a fist into her hip, "I realize that you're siding with Peyton on this, Nathan, but you're supposed to be my friend too. And Lucas! And, oh, by the way, I'm not the only guilty party here- it takes two!" she informed loudly, pointing a perfectly polished finger in his direction.

"You're right it does, but you knew she was in love with him and you didn't care. She was supposedly your best friend, doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"She is my best fri-"

"He-ey guys" came a hesitant voice from the doorway.

"Sawyer," Nathan greeted as he made his way to the blond couple. "You look beautiful," he stated as he pulled her into a firm hug.

"Thank you," she whispered as she self-consciously tucked curl behind her ear. Neither noticed the way Lucas's fell into a glare or indignant look that covered the brunette's face.

"Come on in guys," turning his back on Lucas, with an arm still around Peyton's shoulders, he led them further into the room, dropping down onto one of the couches. "We were just talking about the two of you."

"Good things I hope," Lucas glared at Nathan as he stretched his arm across the back of the couch where Peyton was sitting. Granted there was a good six inches between the two- but still.

"What else?" Brooke spoke with enough censure in her voice to turn all three pairs of eyes in her direction, but her own orbs were locked with Nathan's.

The tension in the room was thick and all were relieved to hear Deb calling down for them to head up to eat. Lucas held back, grasping Peyton's elbow as she walked passed him. "Peyton," he whispered, his voice low. She turned to him, a smile, so obviously forced across her face, "we need to talk."

"About what?"

"You know what about," he insisted. "What do you need me to do?"

"I think you've done enough," she pointed out.

He closed his eyes, "I _meant_ to fix this?"

"I don't know," she looked into his eyes. "Look, can we not do this right now?" She waited a few seconds before turning around and walked up the stairs.

"Peyton," he pleaded. He knew she wouldn't turn around, but it still hurt when she didn't

As Deb dished out the dessert following the meal she made an announcement, "I want us all to go around the table and say something that we're thankful for." Looking up from the plate she'd filled, she had anticipated the rolling of eyes, and she wasn't disappointed. "I know, I know it's not something you want to do, but there are so many people in this world that have so little. It's good to remind ourselves of how fortunate we are. I'll go first.

I'm thankful for my husband who works hard to provide for this family. I'm thankful for my children who, even though only one could be here today, are safe and happy and healthy. I'm thankful for my surrogate children," she looked to Brooke, Lucas and Peyton," who have filled our lives with so much joy as if they were my own. I'm thankful for the friendship that they've given my son, because I know that even after Dan and I are gone he'll have you all to lean upon and call his family. And I'm thankful that all of you were able to make it here safely."

Dan raised his glass, "I'll second that, because family is important, whether you're born into it, adopted into it, or fall into it. Family is the only people who will be there for you when everyone else has disappeared. And though they may disappoint you, they will always love you- unconditionally." When no one spoke up to go next he prompted with a, "Nathan, tell us what you're thankful for."

Sticking his tongue to the inside of his cheek he nodded his head thinking. "Well, um, like you said- I'm thankful for family. And pie," he glanced down at his plate, "And school. Well, not so much school, but basketball- although they're kind of a package deal right now." Seeing an opportunity he decided to go with it, "Speaking of package deal," he glanced at Lucas and Peyton, "I'm thankful that Lucas could make it back here for Thanksgiving. I know how much Peyton missed him when he left and how much he missed her while he was in New York. So, it's nice to see them together- giving us all a glimpse of a love to look for in our own life." He paused and took a deep breath, "And, uh, I'm thankful for Brooke." He cast a sideways glance to the petite girl sitting to his left, "you're not my sister, but I've always considered you family. And I know that we may argue and make fun of each other, but in the end I hope you know that I….uh….love you and I'm glad you're a part of this family."

Brooke looked down to her plate. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she tried to keep the tears back in her own. Reaching over underneath the table, she squeezed Nathan's hand, he squeezed back, an unspoken forgiveness between the two. Now if she could only workout something with the couple across from her. "I guess I'm up," she started with a hesitant smile.

"Like Nathan said, well, and Deb and Dan, I'm thankful for family, too. I'm thankful that I got to be a part of this one. When I think of all of the different scenarios that I could have ended up in, I'm just _really_ thankful that it was this one. I'm thankful for you guys," looking to Dan and Deb, "for being better parents than mine have ever thought to be. But I am thankful for their money. And Nordstrom half yearly sale where I got these fabulous new shoes," she glanced down at her feet for a moment. "Anyway," shaking her head, she turned to Lucas, "Lucas I'm thankful for having you as someone that I could look up to and come to whenever I needed help or had a problem that need some male in-put, and I'm sorry for all of the times that I took advantage of that." His small nod told her that he understood everything that she wasn't saying.

"And Peyton," her voice caught as she looked to her best friend. "I am so thankful for you." She raised a hand to wipe a stray tear off of her cheek, "for being so good to me and believing in me when I didn't deserve it." Her voice caught and she looked to the ceiling to try and gain some composure. "And I am _so_ sorry for all of the times that I have taken you for granted. I hope you know that I would never do anything to purposefully hurt you. I love you." She finished.

Peyton stood up and made her way across the table. Giving Brooke a hug, she whispered, "I love you too." Standing up her cheeks turned red at her audience and she said, "Wow. I feel like I should have a mic." She chuckled nervously. "Ummm…" she started with an arm still around the back of Brooke's chair. "Well, I'm obviously thankful for all of you Scott's too. You've made me feel welcome and wanted from the very beginning which is so much more than I can say for my own family. And, um, I'm thankful for friends that stick closer than sisters," when Nathan cleared his throat she added, "and brothers." She chanced a glance in Lucas' direction when she felt his eyes on her. "And I'm thankful for Luke and that he could come home this week. You've always taken care of me like a sister and I love you for it." With that she moved back to her seat and sat down.

The two brunettes looked at each other when they saw the grimace cross Lucas' face; they knew those words in particular stung.

Lucas was last and he raised his glasses saying, "I think it goes without saying that I agree with everyone else here on how thankful we are for you and Dan, Deb. But I want to say it. You took us all under your wing and took care of us the way our own mothers, couldn't or wouldn't and you will never know how much that means to us. I'm thankful to Brooke for being the pesky sister type that I never had and for always coming up with a silver lining for everything. I'm thankful to Nathan for being such a good friend through my entire life, but mostly I'm thankful that he moved out of the house across the street from mine ten years ago." He smiled when everyone laughed, "because that brought me Peyton," he all but whispered, "who has always been so much more to me than just a friend." He turns to his right and looks into her green eyes, "You have brought so much into my life: direction, beauty, meaning, and I would not be who I am or where I am if you hadn't have been there to see me through it. I love you Peyton, and above everything else, I am thankful for you." He stressed the last word and watched as a lone tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't move, didn't speak so he sat back down.

"Well, see," Deb started hesitantly, not too sure what just happened, "wasn't that fun?"

It was sometime after dessert when Lucas found Peyton in Nathan's bedroom staring out the window. "I've been looking for you," he stated as he closed the door softly behind him.

"Yeah. Sorry," she said turning to him, "I was just thinking."

"Anything you want to talk about?" he slowly walked to stand in front of her.

She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know where to begin."

He nodded his head and put his hands on her shoulders, gripping her arms lightly, his eyes sliding shut when she tensed within his grasp. "I don't know what else to say Peyton. I feel as if everything I do makes this worse."

"I know." she whispered brokenly, "it's not you, it's me."

He shook his head, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know, but I just- I don't know how to act around you anymore."

"What?" he questioned in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"I just," she rolled her eyes as she felt the tears come, "I don't want to be compared to them." She confided.

"What?" Surely he hadn't heard her right, "Peyton, you're- that's insane!" Her large sad eyes looked into his and he had never felt worse that he would make her feel this way. And there was absolutely no basis for it. "Peyton that's ridiculous. I don't compare you to anyone. I- you are everything I have ever wanted, every dream I've ever had, every fantasy-"

"Lucas-" she was getting uncomfortable.

"No, Peyton. It's always about you. It always comes back to you. You do things to me with the slightest twitch of your eye that _no one_ has ever done to me before. I Those other girls….there are no other girls, Peyton. They don't even register since I've been with you."

She shook her head, "Luke-" she was cut off by his lips crashing down to hers. He needed to get them to some common ground. He didn't know how else to do it.

He swallowed her noise of surprise as he lifted his hands from her shoulders to her cheeks, feathering his fingers into her hair. She didn't fall into him, but she didn't pull away either. Her lips were pliant beneath his for a few moments, taking what he was giving, but requesting nothing of her own. And it almost felt like defeat.

So he reveled in the feeling when her small hands moved up the front of his shirt, grasping his collar. And when her soft full lips started moving under his, he readily gave her everything she was demanding. He pulled her close to him, the length of her body pressed against his as he moved his mouth down to kiss her cheek, neck, shoulder, anything he could reach. Her arms were still bent at the elbow grasping his shirt when his mouth reached back up to her ear whispering a husky, _I love you_. He felt the breath she let out against his cheek and barely heard her _then show me_ as she started backing them up to the bed.

"So what do you think they're doing up there?" Nathan questioned from his spot on the sofa in the basement. The place the brunettes had resided to wait for the blondes.

"Having sex in your bed," Brooke replied candidly, her red dress riding high on her thigh where she was curled up on the couch, her arm draped over the spot between them as she faced the boy beside her. She arched an eyebrow and smirked when he looked at her with questionable disgust. "So where's Haley?" she thought to change the subject. "How come she's not here?"

"Her parents are traveling the country and stopped to spend Thanksgiving in Phoenix where some of her sisters live," he explained.

"Then how come you didn't go with her?"

He blew out that caused the longer ends of hair on his brow to puff up and clasped his hands together on his lap. "That was the initial plan."

That was the first she'd heard of that, "what happened?"

She caught the cautionary glance he slid her out of the corner of his eye before he cleared his throat. "I, uh, know, or I guess, have known, one of her sisters a, uh, little better than Haley would have liked for me to."

Brooke burst out laughing, "Oh this is rich. So you're telling me, that you were just ragging my ass about sleeping with Lucas when you shacked up with Tutor Girl's sister?" he didn't seem amused. "I guess we're quite the pair," she said softly.

There was a moment of silence before he glanced up at the ceiling. "So you really think-"

"Oh yeah, definitely." She interrupted confidently. "Like you haven't wanted Peyton naked in your bed for years," she teased him.

"This isn't exactly how the fantasy worked," he muttered.

* * *

In too short of time they were all saying goodbye again. Although, it wasn't as hard this time as it had been the first time. Nathan was ready to get back to Haley and try to further smooth things over and Lucas and Peyton knew that they would do fine on their own. Plus it was only three weeks until Christmas break and then he would have almost an entire month off. So, over promises to see each other for that holiday and lingering kisses they said their goodbyes.

Brooke was there when Lucas left and she and Peyton were able to talk things out. Not that anything needed to be talked out, but just in case. And they all four started school the following Monday with renewed spirits and hopes for the rest of the year.

* * *

A/N: I wanted to say thank you to all of you who review- they make it all worth while. And to those of you who don't reivew, well, I wish you would, but thanks for reading too.


	3. It Feels Like Running Out Of Time

Disclaimer: "It's not mine, I swear!"

* * *

A little over a year later:

He held the phone to his ear as he waited for his drink. _You have one old message_, the automated voice told him. _Hey_, came her voice over the phone, _it's me. I know you're probably in the middle of something really important right now, but I was thinking about you and just wanted to hear your voice. Is it weird that I call this thing just to hear you? Anyway, I love you._ He pressed 2 to save the message and closed his phone.

The end of August he mused, as he stared at the calendar behind the bar. Was it really only August twenty-fourth? Had it really been just under two months since the last time he'd seen her?

Christmas had been fun. He'd met his dad in Charleston and Peyton, like the year before, had flown down to spend the holiday with them. When her parents had come home shortly after Thanksgiving insisting that she spend the break with them, _as a family_, he had been worried. But they'd compromised in the end, agreeing that if Peyton would spend Christmas Eve in Tree Hill they would fly her down to Charleston on Christmas day for the following week. It hadn't been the long vacation they were both looking forward to, but it had worked out.

He could still see her when he picked her up from the airport. He'd been sitting in the terminal for two hours waiting on her flight, which of course had been delayed due to a recent snow. He was in the middle of a game of Bejeweled on his iPhone when it range.

"_Hello?" he'd answered absently._

"_Lucas, hey, its Lindsey."_

"_Oh. Uh, hey Linds. What's up?"_

"_Nothing, just calling to say Merry Christmas and…." Her voice drifted out as his eyes caught sight of a glowing blond. Dark blue jeans tucked into tall black boots almost to her knees and a snug green turtle neck that reflected off of massive green eyes. Hair pulled back with a ribbon and smile that made everyone else disappear._

"_Wow," he murmured as she stopped mere inches away from him, a blush highlighting her cheeks as she stood there in anticipation just before he used his free hand, the one not still holding the receiver to his ear, to pull her to him. "You look beautiful," he whispered against full lips just before he kissed her._

"_Umm…Lucas?" he heard in his ear as he continued to greet his girlfriend. "Lucas?"_

_Peyton pulled back, grinning. "Who you talking to?"_

"_Oh!" he ended the call, "no one." He leaned in to kiss her again but she pulled back._

"_That was rude, was that your dad?"_

"_What? No. It was just Lindsey, I can call her back." He leaned in again._

"_Oh," she turned her head away, effectively blocking his lips, "Who's Lindsey?" _

"_No one. Kiss me," he grinned. And she obliged. _

_After they'd gotten to the house and the obligatory hellos to Keith, he'd ushered Peyton to the guest room and helped her unpack. Well, he'd lain on the bed and watched her unpack._

"_So," she'd started with her back to him, "You gonna call _Lindsey_ back?"_

_He smiled at the tone in her voice. She was jealous. He couldn't say he didn't love it. "I don't know," he shrugged, though she couldn't see him, and she turned around. "Maybe later." He sat up on the bed with his legs still stretched out in front of him and ran his hands over his jean clad thighs, " I can't imagine she has anything to say that could be more important than spending time with my girl." _

_Her arched brow spoke the questions he didn't need for her to verbalize._

_He let out a puff of air. "She's a Lit major. A year ahead of me. Her father owns a publishing company in New York and she offered to edit my book. I figure it's a pretty good deal, I get a critical eye to look over my work, tell me if it's good or not, and then maybe a good word with a publisher if it is."_

_She nodded before she pushed herself away from the dresser and walked toward him. She'd shed her sweater and boots when they entered the room and his eyes were drawn to the silver half heart hanging from a delicate chain just above the scoop neck of her tank top. It's the necklace he'd given her for her for her 17th birthday the year before. He had the other side of that heart hanging from a significantly different type of chain around his own neck. The inscription on the back of the pieces read "True Love Always" with the "True Love" on her half and the "Always" on his. She'd said that was fitting since he was her always._

"_I've already told you that your book is good." She said as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his legs._

"_Yes. But it means more coming from someone who's actually read it," he grinned as his hands found her thighs._

"_Well, it's not because I haven't offered," she reminded him._

"_I know. And I'll let you read it; it's just not ready yet." His hands moved from her legs to her arms, rubbing soothingly from her elbows to her shoulders and back._

"_Yet it's ready enough for Lindsey to read it?" she muttered, albeit a little high pitched._

"_Peyton," was she really insinuating what he thought she was?_

"_Ok. Ok-"_

"_She doesn't mean anything to me." _

"_Yeah?" that eyebrow rose again, "Convince me," she grinned devilishly. And he did. She left a week later._

One short week later, he mused, as he twirled the alcohol around in his glass. He hadn't been able to get back to Tree Hill for Spring Break, electing to take a one week seminar that week that he would eventually need to graduate. She'd said she understood though; she always understood.

Plus, the regional basketball tournament was that week as well, and being Peyton's senior year, she wasn't going to miss it, so it's not like he would have been able to see Peyton even if he had gone back. She would have been busy. He downed the remainder of his drink and motioned the bartender for another.

He opened his phone back up and dialed for his voice mail again. _Hey it's me. I know you're probably in the middle of something really important right now, but I was thinking about you and just wanted to hear your voice. Is it weird that I call this thing just to hear you? Anyway, I love you_.

* * *

Summer break was two weeks away and she was lying on her bed crying. Something had to be wrong with that, right? She should be happy that school was breaking and she had three months of nothing to do but hang out with friends and go to the beach. And she had been, until a few minutes ago when Lucas had called to gently inform her that he wouldn't be able to make it home for Summer Break.

The Publishing Company that Lindsey's dad owned had offered him a summer internship while he worked on revisions of his book. Which Lindsey had deemed wonderful. Of course he couldn't turn it down. It was a perfect opportunity to get his foot in the door; to get a glimpse of the life he hoped to live.

Those were his words.

She was just going to miss him. Again. More. Whatever.

So she sat on her bed and cried more tears over a boy who she was increasingly starting to wonder if he was worthy of so much emotional stress.

It was the week of graduation when Brooke and Peyton devised a plan for her to go see Lucas after school ended. Sort of a last hoorah before having to become official adults. Graduation was on a Thursday, a day which Lucas had said he truly regretted not being able to attend, and she left the following morning. She had no doubt in her mind that Lucas would love it. Some of the things she needed to tell him, maybe (definitely) not so much.

So she left that Friday, intent on spending the month of July in Lucas' apartment. On her way there she picked up some grocery items that she would need for the special dinner she was going to fix and some flowers. She wasn't yet quite sure how she would get into his apartment, but she would figure that out when she got there.

She got a case of nerves as she pulled into the apartment complex but pushed them away before walking into the lobby. She noticed a plump young woman, maybe college age, sitting at a desk and headed in that direction.

"Hi," she glanced at the girl's name tag, "Michelle. I seem to have forgotten my keys, is there any way you could let me into my apartment?"

Michelle seemed to give her a friendly once over. "I don't think I've seen you around, you new here?"

"Um, no. Been here for almost two years now."

"Really? OK. What apartment?" she asked as she pulled out a thick three ring binder and a large ring of keys.

"13."

"13?" she questioned and Peyton nodded her head. Michelle turned to a page in the binder and looked up at Peyton, "You don't really strike me as a Lucas." She stated.

Peyton gave a customary laugh. "Well, I'm not. I'm Peyton, his girlfriend. I live in Tree Hill, but when I'm here, in New York, I live with Luke."

"Uh-huh. I'm really sorry ma'am but we have rules. I can't just let you into his apartment without prior knowledge. That's the stuff TV shows are made out of. You ever seen CSI? NCIS? Criminal Minds? The Mentalist?"

Peyton nodded. "I understand, but really I _promise you_ he won't mind." The girl just looked at here. "My car is full of groceries, they're going to ruin. There must be something I can do." She pleaded.

She looked back down into the binder. "Well, there is a security question. If you can answer that then I suppose I can let you in. Just this once, though."

Peyton nodded eagerly. "Sure. Yeah. What is it?"

"What's your mother's maiden name?"

"My mother's?"

"Well, no, I suppose that would be Mr. Scott's mothers?"

"Oh. Roe." That was easy, she thought.

"OK." The plump girl beamed at her as if she'd answered the final question on jeopardy, "Just follow me."

Peyton followed her to the second floor and waited patiently as she unlocked the door. "Just be careful when you leave, they automatically lock behind you."

"OK. Yes. Thank you, so much."

"Sure thing. Tell Mr. Scott I said hello."

Peyton walked into the apartment and looked around her. The door opened between the living area and kitchen/dining area. Everything was neat and tidy, no paper or empty bottles sitting around. He'd gotten new furniture since the last time she'd been there. It was nice in a pale beige shade accented with black tables, pillows, and curtains- very masculine; contrasting nicely against the black dining set. Hands on hips, she turned a full 360 as something stuck in her nose- Vanilla. She shook her head, she wasn't sure what she was expecting, but this wasn't exactly the college-kid-bachelor-pad that she'd had in mind.

She walked down the small hallway and peaked into a tidy bathroom. She noticed the electric razor and single toothbrush sitting on the counter and unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. On down the hall she passed a bedroom set up as an office with a desk and Lucas' collection of books lining the walls of the small room, before coming to the third door. She pushed it open to reveal a large bed (also new), covered neatly with dark blue linen. Not a pillow out of place. She frowned. Lucas had always been neat, but he was still a guy, maybe he had grown up more than she thought. She threw the overnight bag that she had carried in down on the bed and went back to retrieve the rest of her things.

She propped the door open with a shoe, lest she get locked out, and went down to the car. It was coming up on three o'clock now and she knew Lucas didn't get off until five, but still, that only gave her two hours to get a shower and have dinner ready. She picked up the bags of groceries and decided to send Lucas down later that night for her larger bags.

By five o'clock she was showered, made up, and dressed with dinner smelling wonderful as it simmered away on the stove.

The radio was on and her hips were swaying with a song when she heard a key turn in the lock. She froze, suddenly nervous and anxious all at the same time. She turned toward the door just as it opened, prepared to fly into his arms, when the sight of long dirty blond hair stopped her in her tracks.

She took a step back as the girl, not yet noticing Peyton, closed the door and turned the lock, turning around she stopped short.

"Oh," she said, obviously startled. "Um, can I- can I help you?" she stuttered, her face calm, but her eyes slits of accusatory concern.

"Who are you?" Peyton spoke without thinking.

"I'm Lindsey. Who are you?"

"I'm- Lindsey. You're Lindsey?" Peyton asked, not needing an answer. "Where's Lucas?"

"He's working late. Who are you?" she tried again, not yet moving from the door.

"He's working late," she muttered to herself, "How did you get in here?" she addressed Lindsey again.

The older girl held up a set of keys, "I have a key," she said it as if it were something Peyton should already know. "How did you get in here?"

"Michelle, at the front desk. Why do you have a key?"

"It just makes things a lot easier." She remarked vaguely and finally moved from the door but just far enough to place a bag of groceries on the bar between them. "Are you going to tell me who you are or do I need to call the cops?"

"I'm his girlfriend." Her arms crossed over her chest.

"His girlfriend? Lucas'?"

She fought off the tears as she nodded her head. Clearly Lindsey wasn't aware that he had a girlfriend.

"Oh- well. Right." Lindsey paused for a moment to look at Peyton, and then looked behind her. "Well, I guess there's no need for me to cook tonight. Seems like you've got that covered." She picked up the bag and walked it to the refrigerator where she proceeded to unload the goods.

There was a moment of silence before spoke. "You know. This was a bad idea." She turned the burners off.

"What's that?" Lindsey looked up from where she was putting some fruit into a drawer.

"Nothing. I just. I should go." Fighting back tears, she grabbed her purse off of the table and walked out the door. When she rounded the corner of the building she leaned back against the brick and choked back the sobs that were coming out of her mouth. _This was a terrible idea_.

Lucas was pulling into the parking lot as Peyton was pulling out; neither noticed the vintage car belonging to the other as they passed.

Lucas walked up the stairs to his apartment and pulled out his keys. He frowned as he heard a deep soulful voice of some R&B singer coming through his door. When he pushed the wood open, his nose was assailed by various spices coming from the stove where Lindsey stood stirring something.

"Lindsey?" she spun around with a large smile on her face.

"Hey. How was work?"

"Good," he drew out slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well you said you had to work late and I knew you were having a bad day, so I thought I'd come over and cook you dinner."

"Oh. Well. That was….nice." He found it mildly odd that she had let herself into his apartment. She had a key, which he had given her for emergencies, and they were good friends- he just wasn't aware that they were good enough friends to be letting each other into the other's place of living without consent. It felt off to him.

She turned around and smiled then turned back to the stove.

"Well, uh…" he raked a hand over his head and down the back of his neck, "I'm just gonna jump in the shower, then."

"Sure take your time. I think this probably has another thirty minutes or so."

He walked to his room, blindly throwing his things on his bed and grabbed a clean pair of clothes. _Don't want to be walking down the hall in a towel with Lindsey in the next room._

He stepped into the hot water and let it ease his tight muscles. He'd had a horrible day. Everything that could have gone wrong did- and then some. All he'd wanted to do when he got home was take a shower and call Peyton. Lindsey had put a damper on that slightly, but whatever she was cooking made his stomach growl. He'd have to wait and call Peyton later.

When he got out of the shower he walked back to his room and started putting away the things he had thrown on his bed. That's when he saw it. An overnight bag. What the hell was she thinking? He picked it up and carried out to the main room, setting it on the couch.

"What is that? It smells great."

"Thanks. I think it's some kind of chicken thing?" she looked adorably confused.

He laughed. "How do you not know what you're making? What'd you put in it?"

"I don't know," she admitted with her nose scrunched up, and he noticed it wasn't nearly as cute when it wasn't Peyton doing it, "to be perfectly honest, I didn't make it."

"Oh," he stuck his finger in the pot and licked the red sauce off the tip, "Mmmm. Who did?"

"Umm," he noticed she started wringing her hands, "OK, don't freak out."

"Doesn't sound good." He muttered.

"When I got here the front desk had let someone in and she was standing _here_ cooking in your apartment."

"Who was it?" he asked calmly.

"I don't know I asked her name and she wouldn't tell me?"

"There was someone, some stranger, just _standing_ here in my apartment?" he was doubtful.

"Yes." She was adamant.

"Lindsey."

"There was," she insisted.

"Well, was it someone I know? What'd she look like?"

"It was no one I know. She said she was your girlfriend."

He felt his blood run cold.

"I told her I'd never heard you speak of a girlfriend, but she said that she was. And she was standing here in your kitchen. Her curly blond head hug over your stove, using your-"

"Peyton."

"What?"

"Curly blond hair? Tragic green eyes? Legs for days?"

"I-I guess."

"That's Peyton. God, Linds, you know all about Peyton. Wait- you _know_ I'm dating Peyton. Why would you tell her you didn't know anything about her?"

"She never said her name, how was I supposed to know that's who it was?"

He raked a hand through his hair and turning abruptly he walked back to his room.

"Where are you going? Lucas?"

When he returned he had a framed photo in his hand of the beautiful girl Lindsey had seen just a half hour before. "That's her," she nodded.

"Jesus, Lindsey, I-"

"Lucas, I'm sorry. I'm-"

He cut her off, "You should go."

"Lucas," she hadn't missed the steel in his eyes, "I-"

"No. Now, Lindsey. And don't forget your bag."

She followed his finger to where it was pointing to a black bag, "That's not mine," she whispered as she slipped out the door.

He thought his heart was going to stop. He walked over to the bag and sat down next to it. He gingerly pulled it into his lap and sat there for a few minutes just looking at it. It couldn't be Peyton's- could it? Slowly, carefully, he pulled the zipper back and began pulling out the contents. Shampoo- vanilla and lavender, coconut body wash, a Hinder t-shirt. He dropped his head back against the couch. Peyton had been here, in his apartment, cooking him dinner. And then Lindsey had walked in, with her key, like she lived there.

Quickly he got up and grabbed his phone off of the counter where he had set it when he walked in and dialed her number. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," he muttered and cursed when it went to voicemail. He left a message and tried again a few minutes later. Nineteen times he did that until finally a voice at the other end told him her box was full. He threw his phone across the room as the tears burned his eyes.

* * *

She'd barely made it ten miles before her phone started ringing. _Lucas_. She couldn't talk to him right now. She couldn't pretend like everything was ok, like she hadn't just walked out of the apartment he was obviously sharing with someone else. _Lindsey_. She was tired of competing with Lindsey.

She made it back to Tree Hill in record time. She drove straight to Brooke's. Not bothering to knock when she got to the front door, she let herself in and walked straight back to the brunette's bedroom. She flung the door open with force and the startled girl lying against the headboard jumped, handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth.

"Peyton? What are you doing here?" she questioned as she threw back the blankets and swung her legs over the bed. Seeing the tear tracks covering her face she rushed forward, "Honey, what's wrong? What happened?"

Peyton just shook her head, slowly at first and then fiercely as if to shake the image from her mind. "I- I can't…God, Brooke…I was so…so… stupid…and naïve."

"Honey, what are you talking about?" Brooke asked as she smoothed back her head and led her to the bed, pulling her down beside her.

Between the tears and sobs, Peyton recounted the story.

"That Bitch!" Brooke exclaimed when she was done.

"I know." She wholeheartedly agreed.

She shook her head, "that just doesn't sound like Lucas. Peyton, he's crazy about you. I can't imagine him not talking about you with every breath he took."

"Please, Brooke, think about it," she whispered hoarsely. "He's in college, I'm in high school. No college man wants to be dating a girl in _high school_."

"That's not true; you know that's not true."

"It is. Besides, I don't want to compete with Lindsey."

"You aren't in competition. You're Peyton Sawyer; you don't have to compete with anyone."

"That's not true everything's about Lindsey lately. _Lindsey _called to say Merry Christmas,_ Lindsey _wants me to take a seminar early_, Lindsey _wants me to work this summer. I shouldn't have to compete with her."

"You're right you shouldn't," she conceded.

"You should have seen her Brooke," she whispered brokenly. "She's beautiful."

"No, Peyton. You're-"

"But she is," she interrupted. "She's got this long, thick, straight hair, and these blue eyes. She's tall and thin and-"

"You. Basically. Minus the curls. Honey, I really don't think you have anything to worry about. You should have stayed to fight for your man."

"Maybe that's just it Brooke. Maybe I'm tired of fighting for him."

The brunette just stared at her then. She had a valid point. Lucas hadn't been the greatest boyfriend since he'd left, but he'd tried. Maybe not lately, but in the beginning. Lately he'd just been busy with school and his book and….Lindsey. She let out a puff of air. "Maybe."

She watched as the distraught blond climbed into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Have you talked to him at all?"

Peyton didn't say anything just sat up and pulled her phone out of the pocket of her hoodie and handed it to Brooke. "Nineteen voice mails! Peyton you need to call him."

"No, I don't."

"Maybe there's an explanation."

"No, Brooke, there is no good reason for a gorgeous, single woman to be letting herself into my boyfriend's apartment while he's at work with her own god damn key!"

Brooke nodded and climbed into the bed beside her. "Well then, I guess it's just you, me, and the rest of the Gilmore Girls marathon."

Peyton stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Where's Nate?"

"I think he's in the basement with Haley. Why?"

"Do you think we could just keep this between us for right now?"

Brooke nodded, begrudgingly, "Sure."

At the breakfast table the following morning, well, afternoon, Brooke, Peyton and Haley were discussing the details of their plans for the fall. With graduation behind them, and the two younger girls being offered fairly prestigious positions outside of Tree Hill, they had quite a bit of planning to do.

"Sawyer," Nathan addressed when he walked into the room, cordless phone in hand, "Lucas. I guess he's been looking for you."

"We're not talking." She stated, ignoring the phone in his outstretched hand, and moved to continue her conversation with Brooke.

Haley arched an inquisitive eyebrow in Nathan's direction as he stood frozen to his spot momentarily, not quite sure what to do. Lucas obviously knew that Peyton was there, at least, now he did. "So, you mean. The two of you aren't talking, or you're not talking to him?"

Peyton shrugged, "Either way I suppose."

"Right," he still had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look, "Well then," and spun on his heel to exit the room.

When he placed the phone back to his ear Nathan heard Lucas' immediate, "I didn't do anything."

"Uh-huh. Sounds like it." He deadpanned.

"No seriously. I get home last night and Lindsey's in my apartment cooking dinner and-"

"Whoa. What's Lindsey doing in your apartment."

"I don't know. I mean, it's not like she broke in, she has a key, but-"

"She has a key?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, for emergencies. But-"

"What was the emergency?" his thick arms crossed over his chest defensively.

"Huh? What? There wasn't one. I'm trying to tell you what happened," he explained, clearly getting frustrated.

"Well, don't let a little thing like a woman who isn't Peyton, with a key to your apartment, cooking you dinner like she lives there stop you from _explaining_ to _me_ what went wrong."

"No. It's not like that," he insisted. "I guess Peyton showed up here last night and Lindsey said she was here when she got here, cooking. And I don't know, there's a bag of her stuff here. I guess she was surprising me and then Lindsey showed up and Peyton left and now she won't take my calls. And whatever she's thinking she's got the wrong idea."

"Really? Cause it sounds like you've got some woman living with you" he whispered harshly, ever mindful of the kitchen full of women just a wall away.

"No, she's not living with me. No one's living with me. What do I do?"

"I don't know. She's not talking to you," Nathan informed him.

"Thanks. I figured that one out on my own," he bit.

"Look I don't know what to tell you. It's Peyton; she's going to be mad until she's ready to not be mad anymore. Just, I don't know, come down here for the weekend or something. Smooth it over."

"I can't just 'come down there for the weekend' I have to work."

"Well," annoyed, Nathan said, "don't know what to tell you man." And hung up the phone. If he wasn't going to listen to advice, he wasn't going to waste his breath giving it.

* * *

Two weeks later and he still hadn't heard from her. Not one word. And frankly, he was getting tired of it. He was a grown man, he wasn't interested in playing these childish games. And that's what this was. It was stupid and childish and God he just wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to _fix_ it.

There was a knock at his door and he rose from where he was fumbling with his phone, debating on whether or not to try and call her again, to answer it. Pulling the door back, "Lindsey," he said with neither appreciation nor malice. Things between them had been sketchy at best for the past two weeks.

"Hey," she replied hesitantly. "I brought pizza- and beer." She held up the items. "I was thinking peace offering?"

He nodded ruefully and pulled the door open the rest of the way.

Lindsey took him in as she followed in behind him. The way his loose jeans hung low on his hips, the tight fit of his gray wife-beater tank, his hair was messy and he had a few days worth of stubble on his face. Sexy. She wasn't blind. Of course she wasn't stupid either. She had known who Peyton was the second she saw her standing in the kitchen- how could she not after having to see every new picture of her that her boyfriend received taped to the dashboard of his beat up old car? But she was a woman who went after what she wanted, and right now she wanted Lucas Scott. True, the course of events hadn't yet turned out the way she had hoped. _Yet_ being operative.

Peyton had reacted exactly the way Lindsey had thought that she would, being a girl and all. Lucas, however, she hadn't expected the brooding, the sulking, the… drinking, apparently, as she glanced at the several empty bottles scattered around his apartment. Hadn't expected the mountainous effort on his part to get back in her good graces.

"So, how you holding up?" she questioned as she pulled plates out of the cabinet.

He shrugged as he pulled another bottle out of the fridge, popped off the top and took a large swallow. "The love of my life won't talk to me, what do you think?"

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad." She chirped optimistically.

He scoffed.

"OK," she slid a plate in his direction. "Well, how's work?"

He shrugged and drained the rest of his beer. "It's work."

"Lucas," she placed her hand over his on the counter, "if she isn't willing to talk about this and work it out, maybe she's not ready for a serious relationship. Maybe she needs to grow up."

He shook his head, looking down at his plate. "This is my fault. I never should have given you a key."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. "Well," she pulled open her purse and pulled the small piece of metal out of her wallet, "Here," She placed it on the counter and tried to ignore the jab in her heart when he placed the item in his pocket. She took a deep, calming breath when the land line rang.

It rang three more times and Lucas took a bite of his pizza. One the fourth ring Lindsey asked, "Aren't you going to answer that?"

"Nope." The machine picked up but no one left a message. His cell started ringing moments later and he could tell from the ring tone that it was Nathan, the house phone rang again just seconds later.

"It sounds like someone's looking for you," Lindsey whispered as she watched him finish off his pizza and fill a glass with water.

"They know where I am. There's only one person I'm interested in talking to- they know that." When his cell rang again and Brooke's ringtone hit his ears he closed his eyes in surrender. Hitting the accept button he placed the receiver to his ear and irritably gritted out, "_Brooke_."

"Lucas," he heard tears in her voice.

"Brooke, what's wrong?" he asked, exasperated. He looked over at Lindsey. "If you're looking for advice about a guy, could you call Nate? I'm kinda in the middle of something." He lied, but he really didn't have the patience for this right now.

"It's Peyton," he felt his heart plummet. "T-there was an accident." He couldn't listen to this. Not Peyton. Not his Peyton.

"Brooke," he croaked as his eyes stared past Lindsey.

"No, no, she's ok. Well, she's alive," she clarified, knowing what he was thinking. "It's her parents. A semi hit their car somewhere in Nevada, they're dead. She's a mess Luke. You've…."

"I'm on my way," he cut her off and hung up.

He stuck his phone in his pocket and grabbed his car keys off the counter. He quickly walked back to his bedroom and pulled a bag out from under his bed and starting throwing clothes in it.

"What's going on?" Lindsey questioned from the doorway of his room. She was obviously vexed by the abrupt change in Lucas.

"I've gotta go to Tree Hill," he told her as he grabbed a couple of other things, a stern expression on his face. "Lock the door on your way out," he threw over his shoulder as he walked out the door, pulling a tee shirt over his head, as it closed behind him.

* * *

The taxi ride to the airport had given him time to make some phone calls. He'd started with his dad, who, still living in Charleston, didn't have much information yet either. But he'd been able to check on flights and booked Lucas on the next available giving him one less thing to worry about when he finally arrived at the airport.

Knowing Brooke was an emotional mess over the loss her friend had endured, he called Nathan and Haley next. They agreed that they would stay with Peyton until he was able to get there and he felt the jealousy bubble in his stomach when they told him that they were staying in Tree Hill for the summer. He cursed his decision, again, to go to school in New York; so many things in his life would have been easier, would have worked out differently, if only he'd stayed in North Carolina.

He paid the cabby as he pulled into the Departure drop off lane and was jumping out of the cab before it came to a complete stop. The only thing on his mind was Peyton Sawyer, and she needed him. Of all the doubts swarming around in his mind, that was the one thing that he was absolutely sure of.

Thoughts floated through his mind as he sat in his seat awaiting take off. Did she know he was coming? Did she want him there? Had she asked for him? He placed his ear buds in his ears and turned his IPod on as thoughts of her frantically scurried through his mind. He needed to keep it together. He needed to be strong for her.

When his flight finally landed in Tree Hill he called Nathan immediately. Haley answered the phone and told Lucas that Peyton seemed to be handling things well. He asked to speak to Nathan and was told that he had stayed at Peyton's house after she'd kicked her and Brooke out. Haley had gone back to Dan and Deb's to stay with Brooke. Lucas knew that Haley had meant to be comforting but she'd had the opposite effect. Being relatively new to their little group just before graduation, she had never really gotten a chance to get to know Peyton. Not really know her anyway. If she appeared to be handling things well, Lucas knew it was a façade; she was hiding behind a smile.

Nathan answered the phone at Peyton's house and confirmed what Lucas had been thinking. He'd said that she had yet to cry and wouldn't let anyone touch her or help her any way. He said she was being strong and putting up a good front. Lucas knew it was just that. A front.

It was almost five a.m. by the time Lucas had gotten a cab and pulled onto his former street. Pulling into Peyton's drive, he all but ran to her door but paused before opening it. What if she didn't want him there? He pushed the door open and slowly walked in before he could talk himself out of it.

Nathan was sitting on the couch with his feet propped up in front of him, watching ESPN. "Hey," was all he said when Lucas walked in. His voice was rough from lack of sleep as he pulled a hand down his face showing evidence of his exhaustion.

"Hey," Lucas replied. "How long have you been here?"

"Since she called Brooke and told her what happened. Haley was here for a while but she took Brooke home."

"Yeah," he spoke his acknowledgement, all the while thinking, '_It should have been me. I should have been here'_. "Do you know when it happened?"

"About this time yesterday morning." Nathan explained.

"Why didn't someone call me sooner?"

He watched Nathans eyes fall to his feet as he shrugged his shoulders. He didn't have to explain, Lucas got it.

"Does she know you called me anyway?" Nathan looked up then and shrugged again.

"I don't know. I haven't had much of a chance to talk to Brooke today. And since she was the one that got a hold of you, I figured she should be the one to tell Peyton."

Lucas took that to mean Peyton didn't know. Maybe it was better that way.

Peyton heard voices downstairs and walked out of her room to see who was there now. Did these people not understand that she didn't want them here? She wanted them to leave her alone. She had only agreed to let Nathan stay because, quite honestly, she was tired of arguing with him, but she wasn't up for a house full of people. She made her way down the stairs to tell whoever it was that they could leave and take Nathan with them. But when she got to the landing the man talking to Nathan was so heartbreakingly familiar….

"Lucas?" it was tentative and it came out as a question, but she had to know if it was him- she knew it had to be him.

Hearing her voice, Lucas spun around and his heart broke. There before him was Peyton Sawyer. The beautiful blonde who he had probably fallen in love with the first time he had ever seen her. She was funny and sarcastic, witty and cynical, so strong and so brave, so perfectly imperfect, and right now so….. broken. And he was the only one who saw it. Without a word he walked to her and engulfed her in his strong arms.

Nathan silently watched them from the couch. Since leaving for college, Peyton and Nathan had become even closer friends, he seemed to fill the void during the times when he could come home and Lucas couldn't, and it killed him that he couldn't help her. He had stayed with her since the second he'd heard the news; not leaving her house for anything, not knowing what she would do if he left her alone. He knew she hadn't wanted them to call Lucas, afraid of inconveniencing him, but Nathan and Brooke both knew that Lucas was the only one who could help her, and contrary to what Peyton believed, he would want to be the one to help her. Watching them now, Peyton's head against Lucas' chest, his t-shirt balled in her fists as Lucas simply held her, his left arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his chin gently resting on top of her head, as his right hand stroked her curls, Nathan was glad Brooke had called. He quietly slipped out the door and headed home.

Lucas heard the front door click shut and it was then that her facade broke. As if the click of the lock had broken a dam, the tears came. Gut retching, heartbreaking sobs came to his ears, piercing the depths of his soul and it killed him that he couldn't take away her pain. He lowered them to the floor as her sobs shook their bodies. For hours he held her, comforting and protecting her in the only ways he knew how. His arms wrapped around her, fingers combing her hair, his thumbs wiping away tears. His lips whispering quiet words of comfort, kissing the top of her head, her forehead, eyelids, whatever they could reach to show her that he was there. That he would always be there.

The sun had begun to rise when her cries turned into a quiet murmur, eventually giving way to the silence. He felt her even breaths and he knew she had passed out. Slowly and oh so carefully he picked her up, cradling her in his arms, and carried her to her room. Gently, he laid her down on her bed and pulled the blankets over her. He walked through the room closing blinds and curtains to block out the lights rays for as long as necessary. He stepped into the hall to call Brooke and Nathan letting them know that Peyton was asleep and he was turning off their phones.

He gingerly stepped back into her room, closing the door behind him. He shed his shirt and pants and crawled beneath the covers, pulling her tightly to his chest. In his opinion, her parents had never deserved her. They didn't deserve the tears that she was crying for them. He had never liked them, but right now he hated them. They would never know the wonderful girl whose life they could never put before their own. The girl whose heart was breaking for the family she never really knew. He buried his nose in her hair as his own tears silently fell for a girl who had been through far too much pain and heart break in her short life. He finally closed his eyes in slumber as his heart sent up a silent prayer for the angel in his arms.

* * *

When he awoke the next morning she wasn't in the bed next to him. He wasn't surprised but he was definitely disappointed. He rolled out of bed and pulled his clothes on. He knew where she was. Filling a thermos with hot coffee and grabbing a blanket on his way out the back door he headed to their spot. Their spot. Was it really their spot anymore?

He saw her sitting there on top of that big rock, legs tucked up to her chest and arms folded around her knees. She startled when he draped the blanket over her shoulders and he let out a quiet 'sorry' before sitting down next to her.

They sat in the silence for a long while until she asked, "What are you doing here Lucas?"

He shrugged and wrapped a protective arm around her, "Brooke called me."

He felt her head nod against his shoulder and heard her swallow. "Come here," he whispered as he pulled her between his legs. He wrapped both of his arms around her as she leaned her shoulder against his chest, her head under his chin. "Did you really think I wouldn't be here?"

He felt her shoulders shrug. "I was so mean to you. I-" her voice caught.

"Hey. It's ok. It was my fault," he soothed, looking down at her profile. There was a long moment of silence before he heard her sniffle and felt the wetness of her silent tears as they bled through his t shirt.

"I didn't even know them," she spoke bitterly.

"Yeah. I know." after all, he'd had the same thoughts just hours before. They didn't deserve her tears. But he wasn't here for the death of her parents. He was here for her, just Peyton. And she needed to know that those tears were OK. "But it was your mom and dad." He spoke quietly and tightened his grip on her when her shoulders started shaking again with quiet sobs.

Later that night the gang was gathered at the Sawyer household. Haley had made a large pot of soup and everyone sat huddled around the picnic table that had been kept in the kitchen for the breakfast area.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do?" Brooke asked somberly.

Peyton, pale and quiet, shook her head no. "I don't know. I mean, I think I'll hold off the funeral until your parents get home," she addressed Nathan. "But other than that," she shrugged her shoulders.

Brooke nodded her head. "I was thinking more along the lines of what you're going to do with the house, the cars, their stuff. Are you going to keep it?"

She shrugged again looking down at the full bowl in front of her.

Lucas sat next to her with a leg on either side of the bench, a hand to the small of her back; he could see the beginnings of a break down. He rubbed soothing circles against the bare skin of her lower back and spoke softly, comfortingly, "It's ok. There's plenty of time to sort things out. There's no reason to rush into it."

Haley, from across the table, looked to Lucas, "Well don't you think she should take care of it before she lea- Oow! What was that for?" she demanded of Brooke who'd kicked her under the table.

"I think Lucas is right, she needs to take her time." She addressed Haley coolly; the warning in her voice accompanied the daggers in her eyes. "No need in making any rash decisions."

Nathan hooked an arm around Haley's neck and pulled her temple to his lips for a kiss that made a loud smacking noise. "They're right babe," he whispered.

Haley didn't respond, but turned her head back down to face her bowl of soup. She didn't understand why Peyton hadn't told Lucas yet, but if she didn't do it soon, she was going to do it for her. That boy needed to know.

"You know I was thinking," Lucas started carefully, "why don't you let us take care of the funeral arrangements, that'll give you one less thing to worry about."

She didn't respond for a moment, taking a tiny sip of soup off of her spoon, "I don't know. I-I don't know."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, silently leaving her to think it over.

Three more tiny sips later and she pushed her bowl away from her and stood abruptly from the table, four worried heads popped up to look at her. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Brooke asked concerned.

"My parents died, Brooke, not me," she stated caustically.

Brooke opened her mouth to speak again, but Lucas cut her off with a small shake of his head. The four of them watched as she disappeared out of the kitchen, presumably up the stairs, neither of them quite sure what to do for their grieving friend.

Forty-five minutes later (and yet to hear the shower turn on) Lucas had the kitchen cleaned up and the house emptied. With a sigh he made his way up the stairs and into Peyton's room. He walked cautiously to the closed door adjoining the bathroom to the bedroom. He pressed his ear to the door. Silence.

He rapped on the wood with two knuckles as he turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open. There was no steam or lavender floating in the air. He walked gently to the closed curtain and pulled it back just enough to slip his head in.

She didn't flinch or look his way at the 'whoosh' of the curtain hooks, and the sight of her was enough to bring him to tears. She sat curled up in the corner of the tub, unflinching, staring straight ahead. "Oh, Peyt," he whispered and crouched down to the tub. He lifted a hand out to touch her arm but she didn't turn to him. "You're going to freeze," he mumbled.

After a moments deliberation he stood up and pulled his t shirt over his head. His jeans and boxers followed, and then his socks. Leaning forward he turned the water on and adjusted the temperature before pulling the shower knob. He stepped in, blocking the spray with his back, and pulled Peyton up. He held her against him and allowed the heat from his body and the hot water warm her chilled skin.

He rubbed his hands up and down her arms to try and rid the goose flesh and she turned her eyes to him then. Large, green, haunted, dry and confused.

"I should feel something," she whispered then. "I should be crying or something…..right?"

"You have been crying," he reminded her.

She shook her head, "Not like I should be. I should be- devastated- or something."

"Well, what are you?"

Her eyes bored into his for a moment and he watched as her lips parted to speak before closing again. Her eyes clouded over and in that moment there was an abrupt shift in Peyton as he felt her pull away, even as she stayed right where she was.

She shrugged her shoulders in response to his question.

"It's ok to be mad," he whispered.

"I'm not mad," she insisted.

_Yes you are_, he thought to himself.

"You're not?" he dared to question. "You're parents have been leaving you your entire life and now they've executed the ultimate form of abandonment- and you're not mad?" he boldly challenged.

She dropped her eyes and he instantly felt guilty. He brought a hand to the back of her neck hoping to bring her eyes back to his. "They never deserved you," he murmured aloud, for the first time, the thought he'd had for the past ten years.

She shook her head, her eyes blinking furiously to try and keep back the tears. "That's not true." Taking a step back to distance herself from him she was suddenly aware that she was _very_ naked in front of him. She crossed her arms over her chest to try and shield herself from his eyes.

He tried not to groan in irritation, but stepped forward and braced a hand against the tile behind her head so that she wouldn't step out yet. "It is true Peyton, and it's ok for you to feel that way."

She shook her head adamantly, "I don't."

His eyes bored into hers and she turned around, leaving him to face her back. He did groan then, standing and letting his head fall back. She could be so damn stubborn. He took a minute to think before popping the top off her shampoo and squeezing a small amount into the palm of his hand. Reaching his arms out he slowly worked the gel onto her damp hair.

Her head went from stiff to pliable in a matter of moments as his fingers messaged her scalp. She took a step backward, moving closer to him, and he worked from the top of her head down the length of wet curls and back up again. When she was leaning fully against him he wiped the soap away from her temple with a smirk before placing a kiss there and turning them around.

She opened her eyes and watched him as he diligently worked the clean water through her mass of hair. He caught her staring at him and offered a small smile which she returned. "I don't want to be mad at them," she confided quietly.

He kissed her forehead before resting his against it and closing his eyes, "I know. But it's ok if you are."

She nodded and pulled away slightly, "but I don't want to be. I just want to feel…I want to feel…I want to feel _something_."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tighter against him. "I know. And you will, but, it's going to take time." He held her for a moment longer until he felt her lips against the front of his throat. "Peyton," he tried to sound stern as he tried to put a couple of inches between them.

"You could make me feel something," she whispered huskily as her lips moved from his throat to his jaw to his ear.

He shook his head, "Peyton." He grabbed her hands from where they had clasped behind his neck and pulled them in front of him. "We can't do this right now."

"Why not?" She demanded. "Take my mind off this; make me _not_ think."

"Peyton. No." He silently cursed his nether regions for reacting to her plea; for even if his brain was being rational about the situation, his body was acutely aware of how long it had been since they'd last been together. "I'm not going to take advantage of you like that."

"It's not taking advantage of me when I'm _asking_ you to do it!" she all but yelled.

"Pey-"

"No. I get it." She said bitterly as she yanked the curtain back, allowing the spray to fall on the floor. "My parents don't want me," she harshly threw a towel over her body and walked to the door, "you don't want me. It's fine." With that she slammed the door behind her.

He was beyond frustrated as he shut the water off and ran a towel briskly over his head before wrapping it around his waist. How she could turn this around into him not wanting her was beyond him. He was trying to be respectful. He opened the door and stood there for a moment watching as she violently pulled clothing from a drawer. He watched her mouth move but no words came out and he had to actively try not to laugh.

She looked over at him with a scowl before she turned her back on him to pull her underwear on while still holding on to her towel.

Fine. If it was going to take sex to make her see that he did want her, then he'd give it to her. He'd suffer the consequences later. He walked up behind and wrapped his arms tight around her to still her movements and kissed her shoulder, "Fine," he moved his lips to her ear and whispered, "You win."

"I don't want to win," she pouted.

He scoffed, she always wanted to win. "I do want you," he tried again as he sucked on her pulse point.

He heard a little sigh slip past her tight lips just before she shook her head and said, "No you don't." She could feel him behind her, against her- all of him. But she was mad, and her feelings had been hurt and she wasn't ready to give in just yet.

He grinned as he imagined her stomping her foot to accompany this little fit. He kissed down her neck and dropped his right hand low on her belly and pulled her tightly against his center, "Mmmmm, I do." Raising that same hand he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and turned her face to the side to kiss her mouth.

He caught her lips between his and kissed her fiercely, without apology. When she hummed from low in her throat he felt as if some small victory had been won. He turned her around, and with his hands firmly holding to her upper arms, he backed her up to the bed. He followed her down, his weight immediately on her, as his lips continued to overtake hers.

It was frenzied and passionate and when it was over neither one could form a clear thought. Exactly what she'd wanted.

She threw a leg over his and snuggled into his side, "I'm sorry I took advantage of you," she grinned.

He laughed and pulled her tight into him. "I'll tell you what, you can take advantage of me anytime you want to."

She grinned up at him and he kissed her again, tenderly. This was nice. This was normal.

When he pulled away she could see the hesitation in his eyes, "I didn't hurt you did I?"

"Ut-huh," she shook her head. "In fact," she pushed him back and crawled on top of him. She opened her mouth to say something when his cell rang from the table beside them. "Don't answer it," she whispered dropping her head to his neck as he reached over to pick up the phone.

It rang again before he could look at the call display. "It's Lindsey," he said.

She pulled back abruptly and sat up, "So?"

He sat up and pushed her off of him, watched as her mouth fell open in disbelief even as his eyes begged her to understand. "I forgot to call into work, it'll just be a minute," he excused as he pulled his boxers on and stepped into the hall.

_Unfuckingbelieveable_, she thought as she walked back into the bathroom for another shower. This time she locked the door behind her.

* * *

The funeral was held three days later. Peyton stood at the gravesite, dry eyed, flanked by Lucas and Brooke to one side and Nathan and Haley on the other. Dan and Deb had shown up, after arriving home only hours before from their annual cruise. Keith had driven in from Charleston and two of her dad's colleagues had come, in what she assumed, office duty. It struck her then how much her parents had alienated themselves from the people of Tree Hill.

After the burial they all headed to the Scott's for snacks and then Lucas took her home. Things hadn't got on so well between the two of them since the few days before.

He followed her up to her room in silence. He noticed various boxes sitting on the floor with some of her things inside and he couldn't keep quiet anymore. The thoughts had plagued him since he'd arrived three days earlier.

"Hey, listen," he started, "I know this probably isn't the best time to be talking about this, but umm…I was wondering," she looked at him curiously as he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, "well, I was wondering when you were coming to New York."

"I was just in New York," she reminded him bitterly as she worked the clasp of the necklace she'd worn.

He sighed. "I know. And I'm sorry about that. But, I kinda meant, you know, for good."

She stared at him blankly, "For good?" she repeated quietly.

"Yeah, I mean. I know we haven't talked about it lately. But you'd always said after graduation that you'd like to live there." He looked at her staring at him and continued quickly, "And I got the place fixed up nice. New…well, you probably saw all that. I just knew you wouldn't want to be living in some bachel-"

"I'm moving to L.A.," she blurt out, cutting him off. That wasn't how she'd wanted to tell him, but she couldn't stand there listening to him go on about the new things he'd bought _for her_ and how he'd fixed up the apartment with her in mind. So, with tear filled eyes she looked into his shocked blue ones and went on, "with Brooke. I got a year long internship at a record company. I'm moving to L.A."

"Peyton?" he shook his head and dropped to the bed, surely his legs wouldn't hold him up anymore. "I- LA? That's… across the country."

"I know," she replied with a small voice and sat down next to him.

"Is it the furniture?" he was grasping for a reason. "The colors? I can change it. I mean Lindsey liked –"

"Lindsey?" she reeled back.

"Yeah,"

"I am so sick of hearing about _Lindsey_."

"Peyton, she-"

"No Lucas. I am so tired of competing with her."

"What? Peyton, that's ridiculous. You don't have to compete with her."

"Yes, I do. Everything is about Lindsey. Lindsey said this, Lindsey did that, Lindsey's on the phone, Lindsey picked out the furniture."

"I didn't say she picked out the furniture."

"Did she?"

"Well, she was there when I was looking at it."

"See! She's always there!" she exclaimed. "I just. I can't do this anymore."

He froze. "Can't do what anymore?"

"I can't compete with her. I can't…. she's everywhere," she whispered. "I don't want to have to compete with her."

"You don't have to," he was in front of her now, on his knees.

"I feel like I do."

"Peyton. I love you. I am committed to you. I- I don't know what you want me to do."

She shook her head compassionately. "Luke-"

"You know that," he stressed, "and if you don't…just…move in with me Peyton, let me prove it to you. I love you."

"Lucas," she breathed.

"You're saying no," he pulled away, burned.

"I'm not saying no, I'm just saying…" she paused. "This is a huge opportunity for me. I'm only the second intern they've taken right out of high school- I have to do this. It's only for a year and then I can move to New York."

He was standing now, feet from her with his arms crossed over his chest, tears in his eyes and it brought them to her own. "Lucas," she whispered but he just shook his head and walked out the door.

She didn't seem him again that night and she didn't try calling. When she woke up the next morning she thought to walk over to his house and try to smooth things out, but when she opened the front door a manila envelope fell on her feet, stopping her. She bent over and picked it up, ripping the top off and dropping the contents into her hand. A CD, '_An Unkindness of Ravens_' scribbled in Sharpie black ink across the cover and a note.

She unfolded the notebook paper and slid down the door frame as tears blurred her vision.

* * *

Now a month after watching Peyton slide down the splintered wood of her front door frame he sat at the bar, alone. His 21st birthday and he was celebrating- alone. His thoughts were taken back momentarily to his last birthday.

"_Hold on, I'm coming!" he'd hollered to whoever was incessantly ringing his door bell. He pulled the door open and his aggravation changed to joy when he was face to face with a familiar green eyed blond._

"_Happy Birthday?" she questioned as she held a store bought cake out to him._

"_Oh my god, what are you doing here?" he asked as he laughingly pulled her into a huge hug._

"_Happy Birthday!" she said again, more confidently. "You didn't think I'd let you spend it all alone did you?"_

"_No, I, well, yeah. What about school?"_

"_It'll still be there on Monday," she promised. "But I have all weekend before I have to worry about that."_

"_This is amazing," he said as he kissed her._

_Later, in his bed with the sheet covering his lower half, he leaned down and kissed her ear before whispering huskily, "Best. Birthday. Ever."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Oh, yeah." He leaned down to kiss her again._

"_Wait!" she pulled back, "we haven't had cake."_

"_What?" he questioned as she shot out of bed and threw his shirt on. _

"_Just a sec," she came back in moments later, that cake out of the box with one candle burning as she cheerily sang 'Happy Birthday'. _

_She sat down on the bed and placed the little square of chocolate sugar between them and he grabbed her hand, his fingers fondling hers as he leaned over to blow out the candle before she stopped him with another 'Wait!'_

"_What now?" he laughed._

"_You have to make a wish." He looked at her skeptically. "Come on."_

"_Ok," he closed his eyes._

"_Ok, anything you want, everything you want." She watched him smile with his eyes closed, "Now place it in your heart," she whispered._

_He opened one eye and arched that brow. "Do you have it?" she questioned his dubious face._

_He nodded. "OK now believe it can come true."_

"_Peyton," he argued._

"_You never know," she interrupted his protest ,"You just may get what you're wishing for." He sighed, but indulged her. _

"_OK. I made my wish, can I blow out the candle now?"_

"_Of course."_

"_So you really think my wish will come true?" he asked as he looked down at their joined hands._

"_If you believe in it with all of your heart, I do," she smiled up at him._

_He smiled back at her. He'd wished for her._

So much for believing with all of your heart, he thought bitterly as he drained another drink. He looked down at his cell phone again before opening it one more time as he thought back to that voice mail from a few months ago that he doesn't dare erase. She ended it with 'I love you' and he keeps it just in case it might still be true.

He dialed his own number and listened to the automated voice recite, "May 1, you have one old message." He pressed the appropriate button to hear the recording and listened to her voice again. _Hey it's me. I know you're probably in the middle of something really important right now, but I was thinking about you and just wanted to hear your voice. Is it weird that I call this thing just to hear you? Anyway, I love you_.

* * *

A/N:

Title by Leann Rimes "And It Feels Like"

Sorry for the delay. I had two weeks of mid-terms and then my entire family got the stomach flu, then I got pneumonia. So… here you go! This had not been beta'd so apologies.

Also, I have chapter four written. If I get 15 reviews I'll post it ASAP, otherwise, I'll post it in a week.


	4. Since I Don't Have You

"Uh," she groaned as she climbed out of her car into the chilly, damp night air. She pulled her long wool coat closer to her body as she grabbed the needed items from her car. _Who knew LA could be so cold in November?_ Throwing her purse over her shoulder, she tucked her portfolio of the current artists' she was scouting under her arm and hooked this weeks' dry cleaning on one finger as she ran into the apartment building.

She and Brooke had been living in California now for a little over sixteen months, leaving Tree Hill three days after her parents' funeral. Both girls had come to the city with such high hopes and dreams, neither imagining the life they were embarking on. When they first arrived, after the cross-country trek in Peyton's old, yet reliable, Comet, Brooke had arranged for them to live in the Davis' guest house. It had worked out well until Victoria, Brooke's biological mother, got tired of them 'free-loading' and sent them looking for their own place.

They, or Peyton, found that place in downtown LA in a small unit of apartment buildings. It was actually pretty upscale and cost a pretty penny every month in rent, but they could afford it, things were going well. Better than well, actually. Brooke's dream of owning her own fashion line had taken off immediately and she was currently in negotiations to open the first Clothes Over Bros retail store in New York. Peyton's internship had turned into a permanent job just two short months after arriving. She had quickly gone from intern to assistant's assistant to Talent Scout. It would be her dream job actually if the hours were a little more consistent or if there were, you know, two of her. It kept her busy to say the least.

And she was _busy, _she thought and groaned when she glanced down at her watch and noticed that it was after three am. LA was nothing like Tree Hill. In Tree Hill you could go from one end of the town to the other in twenty minutes. But it was nothing in LA to have to drive forty minutes in any direction just to get where you need to go. And they lived in the heart of the city. She was constantly running late, a trait she didn't enjoy in her clients or appreciate in herself. She was actively trying to work on that.

She unlocked the outer door and walked through the lobby to the elevator which she took three floors up, to the top floor, where her and Brooke's apartment was located. Not that Brooke knew that yet. The brunette had been in New York for the past three weeks trying to secure permits to renovate an old building for the future site of her store. Peyton had found the place and moved in while she was gone.

The metal doors opened and she rolled her eyes as the neighbor across the hall was saying goodbye to some leggy redhead in a micro mini dress- she had not a hair out of place at- Peyton glanced at her watch- 3:04 am. She fumbled with her keys as she heard the girl say 'call me' before she got into the elevator.

There was no question that the dark haired man in apartment 3C was of a risqué nature. He seemed to have a new woman every other night- and if the other women knew, he made no apologies for it. He sent Peyton a wink before she was able to disappear through her door.

Looking around her apartment for a place to lay her things, she settled for the kitchen counter as she still had no furniture. _One more thing to put on my list of things to do_, she thought ruefully. When was she going to find the time to do that? She walked to the back of the apartment to the second bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweats and a white tank top and dropped into bed.

The sound of a rushing train woke her the next morning and she ran into the living area to see what it could possibly be just as the entire building moved around her. She screamed and moved around aimlessly trying to remember anything she had heard about earthquakes in the past. Before she could conjure up a helpful memory everything went still and seconds later the sound of a building crashing brought another terrified scream from her mouth.

_What the hell was that!?! _She thought as she opened her eyes and noticed everything standing exactly the way it was before the loud noise.

Her front door opened and she spun around on her bare heel. _Did she not lock her door last night?_

"Are you okay?" the brown haired man from across the hall asked her.

She clapped her hand to her heart and gasped for breath. "You scared me!"

"I heard a noise, and I came to see if you were all right. The door was open…" He made a vague gesture in that direction.

They'd been neighbors for three weeks, but he'd never been in her house. In fact, he'd never spoken more than three words to her at any one time. That hadn't stopped him from forming an opinion.

He'd observed that she was a woman who moved fast and kept erratic hours. She didn't dally between her car and the front door, barely taking time to wave and mumble "hello" while she fumbled for keys. She usually rushed by him in a stern black coat that hung almost to her knees, with a huge leather purse slung over her shoulder, a grocery bag balanced on her hip, plastic-draped clothes from the cleaners caught in the crook of a finger, and more often than not a portfolio of some sort stuck between her ribs and arm.

Because he didn't know her name, Julian thought of her as the Mystery Woman. He was fascinated by the amount of raw energy she exuded between curb and doorstep. Her impersonal, hurried hellos annoyed the hell out of him. And he hated that damn black coat.

A man who was careful not to develop feelings for any one specific woman, preferring to divide his time among the gender as a whole, Julian knew he was in big trouble when he started hating the coat. It belonged to a woman who was a virtual stranger. So what if the coat was unflattering? So what if it was missing a button on the half belt at the small of her back? It was none of his business, right? Wrong. It was driving him nuts. Clearly it was the result of having too much free time on his hands, Julian thought. He was getting weird. He had become fixated on a neighbor who wanted nothing to do with him. He'd been lonely, and wondered if she was lonely, too. And then he started wondering what was under the all-concealing coat. A tweed suit? A silky dress? Maybe nothing at all?

Now he was finally standing next to the Mystery Woman, and his heart was pounding. Normal reaction when worrying about the safety of a neighbor, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that her complexion was flawless, or that she had outrageously curly blond hair. She was smaller than he'd originally thought. About five-foot-eight but delicately boned, with a pixieish face and large green eyes. She was wearing a pair of baggy gray sweats that molded to her soft curves and hung low on her thin hips. Julian concentrated on her brick red toe nail polish while he tried to exert some control over his testosterone level.

She took a step backward and swiped at the wispy curls that fell across her forehead. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked in a concerned voice that she couldn't say she hated. "I heard the loud crash and the scream."

"No. No, I'm fine. What was that?"

"I don't know, I thought it came from over here?"

"What? No, I don't- over here?" he nodded.

He followed behind her as she walked down the hall and opened the door to the empty front bedroom, that would be Brooke's, it was still there. Each room had a private bathroom so her room was next. She opened the door to that room and gasped. It was still there as well. However sitting atop her brand hew bedding was half of the roof, shingles and all.

"You have got to be kidding me," she muttered as she surveyed the disaster- and the bright blue sky above her head. She walked over to the smashed in bed and nearly cried in frustration.

Julian chuckled but sobered immediately at the flash of green that stabbed him.

"Do you know what this used to be?" She shouted at Julian as she furiously paced beside the bed. "This used to be a brand-new seven-hundred –dollar feather quilt. Prime goose down that was going to keep me warm this winter."

Julian raised his eyebrows and looked at the quilt with obvious envy.

"I suppose you think goose down grows on trees. Well, let me tell you, I worked long and hard for that stupid goose down. And now what? Who's going to pay for this?" She paused and ran a hand through her hair. "I should call someone," she said as she paced the room. "The landlord, my insurance company…Brooke. Bloomingdale's linen department."

She looked up at the swatch of blue sky showing through her roof. "I need a carpenter, a roofer. Damn it, it's Saturday. I'll never be able to get a carpenter out here today. What if it rains? What if word gets around about this? Degenerates and drug addicts could just drop in whenever they wanted." She narrowed her eyes and shifted from foot to foot. "I'd like to see them try."

She had that tight-lipped don't mess-with-me look a Doberman gets when he hasn't eaten in three days. Her eyes were a flash of emerald green. Her hair seemed electric. She was getting hysterical, he decided. And she was magnificent. He picked up the bedside phone and dialed.

"Who are you calling?" Peyton asked. "The police?"

"No, the pizza place on the corner. You look like you could use lunch."

For the life of him, Julian couldn't figure out why he wanted to feed this crazy person. Common decency, he told himself. He shook his head. That was a bunch of bull. He wasn't all that decent. He silently groaned and grimly acknowledged that he was hooked. Now that he knew what was under the awful black coat, there was no turning back. He wanted to get rid of the gray sweats. He wanted to get rid of them _bad_.

Peyton looked at the man standing in her bedroom and realized she didn't know his name. Although she'd moved in three weeks earlier, she'd never introduced herself. She was a lousy neighbor. She'd practically snubbed him, and he'd still rushed over to help her when disaster struck. A nice person, she thought. And he was ordering pizza! A little offbeat, but thoughtful. "Is pizza your standard remedy for hysterical women?"

He hung up the phone and plunged his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. He was wearing a v-neck pull over sweater with a striped button up underneath, and he was standing back on his heels, watching her. "No, but I thought it might be too soon for a drink."

"You mean too early," she corrected.

"Mmmm. Too early." He'd meant what he'd said, but he'd let her work that out.

Not only didn't she know his name but she wasn't sure if he was married- she assumed not from the array or women constantly leaving his house. She had never seen him go off to work, and she was surprised at how attractive he was. From a distance he'd seemed loose-jointed and boyish, but at close range he had a lanky muscular body. She'd guess he was a couple of inches over six-feet tall with corded arms, a flat belly, and eyes that were a deep, rich brown. The eyes didn't miss much, and they didn't give away much, she decided. Nothing more than he wanted. They were intelligent and perceptive. He had a wide, firm mouth that looked a trifle stubborn but held a hint of humor.

"I don't think we've actually met," she said, holding out her hand. "Peyton Sawyer."

"Julian Baker."

"I've been a terrible neighbor."

"Yup."

Peyton raised her nose a fraction of an inch. It was an intimidating gesture she used when put on the defensive: a habit developed after years of coping with MIA parents, a nosy boyfriend, and a pushy best friend.

Julian grinned at her. "Nice try, but haughty isn't going to work."

Peyton controlled the impulse to roll her eyes and say something rude, but she reminded herself that she may need his help in the future.

" I was going to bake you a cake, but I just never got around to it," he grinned a smile that told her he was probably used to having his way.

"It's not too late. You could bake me a cake today," she arched a brow as she challenged him.

"Don't get pushy," he laughed.

She grinned. "Just trying to be helpful. I didn't want you to carry around a load of unnecessary guilt."

"Very thoughtful of you," he muttered. "The truth is, I'm not much of a baker."

"You don't say?" she mocked shock, "Well you can't let that stop you. I hear baking isn't so tough."

"You hear?"

"Eh- well…" she shrugged one shoulder and she walked out of her bedroom and down the hall.

"Well, in that case I happen to have a no-foil layer cake recipe that'll knock your pan-er, socks off. Since you're obviously not the domestic type, I'll make the cake and-"

Peyton dug her heels into the carpet, hands on hips, "What do you mean, 'obviously not the domestic type'?"

"Domestic types always know how to bake cakes." He stood at the entrance to the living room. "And domestic types usually own furniture."

Peyton followed his gaze around the rooms. As she appraised the empty living room, she pushed her hair behind her ears, but it immediately sprang forward to its original position. "I suppose I could use a chair or something, but I just haven't had time. Of course, it's easier to vacuum this way," she concluded.

He glanced around again. "I'm guessing you're hard to live with, huh?"

She glared at him, "What makes you think that?"

"Just a hunch," he shrugged his shoulders with a smirk.

"I'm impossible," she muttered.

"I'm easy to live with," he announced as he followed her into the kitchen. "I'm very likeable."

She raised her eyebrows. He was likeable all right. He was so likeable it was frightening.

He took a cookie from the open bag on her kitchen counter. "Don't you think I'm likeable?"

"You sound a little cynical about it."

He munched on the cookie, surprised that the cynicism had crept out. "It's a curse."

"Uh-huh. So you want to call the landlord or work on cleaning up the mess in my bedroom?"

"No contest," he said as he pulled his cell out of his pocket and watched she took a box of trash bags into the room.

An hour later, they'd finished their pizza and the landlord had arrived. They led him to the bedroom.

"So?" Peyton asked hopefully.

The man paled and swore softly at the wreckage. "I'm glad you're not a late sleeper." She kept her mouth shut, _if only he knew_. He photographed the ceiling and the bed, "I'm going to contact my insurance company and I'll be in touch as soon as we get this straightened out."

"What about my stuff?" she questioned desperately.

"You have renters insurance?" she nodded the affirmation. "They'll take care of that. Heard on the weather report that it's supposed to rain," he said looking at the hole in Peyton's roof. "Supposed to get colder, too."

Peyton peered up at the patch of sky showing through the ceiling and groaned. It really wasn't fair that misfortune had singled her out. She wasn't such a bad person, she thought. A little disorganized at this point in her life and maybe just a teensy bit self-centered. So she wasn't such a great neighbor, but hey, she'd been busy. And it wasn't as if she'd been an _awful_ neighbor. She was quiet most of the time, she tried to keep her music volume down, and she usually parked in her own parking space, and she almost always said hello to him…

The alarm rang on her bedside clock. Simultaneously, an alarm went off in the kitchen. Peyton smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Shit!"

Julian reached for the clock, "What's going on?"

"I'm late!" Peyton rushed to her closet and pulled out a pair of jeans, top, tall leather boots and a black leather coat. "I have to meet a band. I've been having a hard time managing my time here, there's just not enough of it. That's my late alarm." She passed him on her way to the bathroom. Shouting through the door she continued, "When the alarms go off I only have half an hour before I have to be there. I knew I'd forget!"

Walking out she tossed the sweats she had been wearing onto the heap now covering her bed, she snagged her big leather purse and took off on a dead run. She got halfway down the hall, turned, and popped back into the bedroom. "Julian, can you take care of this for me? And lock up the apartment when you leave. And thanks for the pizza!"

She was gone. Julian and the landlord stared out the open bedroom door in silence, unconsciously holding their breath. They resumed breathing at the sound of a car being gunned from the curb.

The landlord blinked and smiled in amazement. "Is she always like this?"

"Probably."

* * *

Haley pressed Send on the email and pushed away from the desk. She rolled her neck to try and ease some of the tension away. She'd just sent off two letters, one to Nathan who was on the road with the basketball team for the next week and another to Lucas who was currently in New York and who she was becoming increasingly good friends with.

She and Nathan had both become increasingly worried about the blond over the past year. Following his break up with Peyton, which neither she nor Nathan had yet to hear the details of, he transferred to Duke and moved in with Nathan and Haley. The Company that was publishing his book wasn't too happy about the new distance between them and their new prodigy, but they worked it out in the end. Now Lucas flew to New York every other weekend or so but finished his classed in North Carolina.

However, following the move, or maybe the decision behind the move, he seemed to unravel. Drinking became a daily ritual. He would lock himself in his room and not come out for days. Strange women became frequent visitors to their house, walking in and out of his room at all times of the day. Petite curvy brunettes, tall thin red-heads, attractive women with raven hair- but never, _never_ a blond- never curls- and never green eyes. Haley saw it as symbolic; Nathan saw it as bullshit and called it as such. Stating that if the blond had made the move earlier maybe he and Peyton would still be together.

And that was the reason Lucas was currently in New York- mad at Nathan- and not replying to any of Haley's emails.

She sighed as she stood from the chair and walked to the kitchen to make some tea, wondering if they would ever find out what happened between the two brooding blonds.

* * *

Lucas sat in the office provided by the Publishing House and gently rocked from side to side in the gray swivel chair. His book had been published. His dream of becoming a published author had come true. It was what he had always wanted. Then how come he had no fulfillment in it? How come he sat in an office alone? How come he was ignoring Haley's emails?

He pressed 'Delete' and closed the screen. She meant well, he knew, but he wasn't ready to talk about it. Peyton had asked for a year, and he couldn't give it to her. Why? At the time it had seemed like he'd waited forever for her to be done with high school so that she could follow him to New York. He had never stopped to think that she _might not_ follow him to New York. One year. It all seemed so trivial now. If he'd given her what she'd asked, that year would have ended four months ago.

And he's pretty sure he's the reason she wasn't back in North Carolina. Not that he would know, he hadn't heard a word from her since he'd left her in her bedroom the day of her parents' burial. Then again, he hadn't exactly reached out to her either. If he hadn't have been so mad and so hurt he wouldn't have left that short note with the CD. _Maybe we need to take some time and figure out our priorities_- the words haunt him now. He didn't mean them. He hadn't meant them then, and he didn't mean them now, but she didn't know that.

He dropped his head in his hands and heard the door behind him open. A thin pair of hands squeezed his shoulders and he felt hair ghost against the back of his neck as the owner leaned forward, her lips close to his ear.

"Hey," she whispered. "You ready for the tour?"

He shrugged her off as nicely as he could and turned the chair around to face her.

"Yeah," his voice croaked from lack of use. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Good. I'd love to tell you that the worst is over, but these things can be pretty stressful- different city every day. I think they're breaking you in easy though. You've got three days in the first one before you have to fly off." She spoke tenderly, compassionately, and he thought if things were different, that maybe he could fall for her. She reached one hand out and squeezed his shoulder one more time, "You going back to NC before it takes off?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod of his head, "When do we leave?"

"Umm, Monday, three weeks from now. They want to promote it in some of the bigger cities before Christmas," she explained before she turned to walk out the door.

"Hey, Linds," he stopped her before the door shut behind her. When she turned to him, a smile on her face, he asked, "Where's the first stop?"

"Oh. L.A.- fun huh?"

* * *

By the time Peyton returned, it was pouring. She dashed from her car and huddled in the dark alcove of the front door, searching through her purse for her key.

She shivered as rain drizzled down her neck and soaked into the back of her shirt, and she wistfully longed for the black coat that the cleaner had destroyed. The coat had been like Little Bear's porridge. Not too hot, and not too cold. It had always been just right. Not too long, not too short. It had fit her perfectly. And now it was gone…just like her roof. Damn.

She wedged her purse between her leg and the door, protecting it from the elements out of habit. She found the key and let herself into the foyer before making the way up the elevator and into her own unit, and for the first time since she'd moved in she felt slightly insecure in her own house. Her haven, her sanctum sanatorium was vulnerable.

She shook the rain from her hair and apprehensively trudged down the hall, hating the feeling of doom that had descended on her since she'd entered the house. Don't get paranoid about this, she told herself. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime freak accidents, and now that she'd gotten it out of the way, the coast was clear. She was in good shape for the next hundred years. Still, it was creepy to have your ceiling fall onto your bed.

She switched the light on in her bedroom and pressed her lips together at the sight of the quilt. It was dead. It smelled like wet fowl, and water dripped from the ceiling with a depressing _splat_ onto the soggy lump of torn coverlet and massacred feathers.

Something thumped overhead. Footsteps on her roof. The sound of a heavy object being dragged toward her. She searched for a weapon, finding only a hairbrush, flannel nightgown, empty yogurt cup. In desperation her hand closed around a body spray bottle.

"Whoever's up on my roof better not come any closer," she announced, and aimed the bottle at the hole. "I've got Mace."

Julian Baker peeked over the edge and grinned down at her. "That's not Mace, sweetheart. That's body spray. The best you could do with that is strip me of my masculine dignity."

"You have to use your imagination."

"Uh-huh."

She squinted into the darkness of what used to be her ceiling. "What are you doing up there?"

"Trying to fix your roof. I'd have had it fixed sooner, but I had to drive all over town trying to find a big enough piece of plastic." He disappeared, and a slab of wooden slats was shoved halfway across the opening.

Peyton recognized it as a section of the six-foot-high privacy fence that separated the back of their complex from the one behind them.

He walked around the perimeter of the hold and reached forward to tug the wood into place. Then there was the sound of tarred paper tearing and Julian Baker dropped like a stone, through the hole in the roof, and landed with a _whump_ that knocked the air out of him, flat on his back, spread-eagle on the soaking-wet, smashed in bed.

Peyton was afraid he was dead. He lay motionless on the bed, eyes closed, his body encased in a yellow slicker, his hands limp in small pools of gray feather water. She felt the breath clog in her throat, felt anguish smothering clear thought.

"No!" she whispered, rushing to his side, acting on instinct, never noticing the wet mattress she crawled across. She straddled his inert form, tugged at the raincoat zipper, and put her hand to his heart. "Julian!"

He opened his eyes. "Mmm?"

She almost collapsed in relief. "Thank God. I thought you were dead."

If he was dead, then this had to be heaven, because the Mystery Woman was sitting astride him, her warm hand pressed against his chest, her shapely butt resting on his thighs. Black dots floated in front of his eyes, and he struggled to regulate his breathing.

Peyton leaned closer. "You heart is racing under my hand."

He gritted his teeth and thought that was nothing compared to what was happening under the center seam of her jeans. He firmly grabbed her and lifted her, leaving wet handprints on the sleeves of her shirt.

"I'm Okay. I was just stunned for a minute."

He sat up slowly, flexing his arms and legs, amazed that nothing seemed broken. Tomorrow he'd probably feel like a truck had run over him. Rain drizzled onto the top of his head and dripped off the tip of his nose. He sat his mouth in a grim line and narrowed his eyes. "Outta my way, woman. I've got a score to settle with this roof."

"You're not going back up there."

"Damn right I'm going back up there. Us hero types don't let a little thing like a broken back stop us. When there's a damsel in distress we go for it. Grab the gusto, full speed ahead, man the torpedoes."

Peyton followed him to the sliding glass door to the balcony that led to the swingdown stairs and roof access. "Be careful!"

His face lit up. "Would you care if I got hurt?"

"Of course I'd care. You're on my property."

He smirked, "Uh-huh."

"And you're my neighbor, and, uh, you seem to be a nice person."

"That's true." He leaned toward her. "Anything else?"

Peyton pushed the bangs back from her forehead, shifted from foot to foot. He had a terrific voice, she thought. It had turned deep and rumbly, very sexy, very comfortable, very intimate. The sort of voice that made her feel as if she'd known him for a thousand years. The sort of voice that said that as far as he was concerned, she was the only woman on the face of the earth. And his eyes confirmed it. They were frankly admiring and slightly predatory.

"Do you live alone?" she asked.

"Yup."

"Not married?"

"Nope."

"Engaged?"

"Nope."

"You aren't gay, are you?"

His mouth curved at the corners. "No. Want me to take a blood test?"

"Maybe later."

The husky resonance returned to his voice. "That sounds promising."

"Don't get your hopes up. I'm impulsive, compulsive and emotional- about everything but sex."

"Sex is serious stuff, huh?"

"You bet."

"Good. I'm a serious kind of guy." He tossed her a wink.

Peyton rolled her eyes but smiled. "I know. I could tell that from the literature you select for yourself," referring to the comics she often saw within his grasp whenever she saw him outside the confines of his walls, "You ever read anything besides _X-Men_?"

"_Spider-Man_."

"Is that how you got up on my roof earlier? Spider-Man techniques?"

"Our roofs are connected, remember? I walked from mine to yours." He sighed. "Speaking of roofs…" He put his foot on the bottom rung of the swing down stairs. "If I fall through your ceiling again, feel free to stimulate me back to life."

"You mean like cold water, a slap on the face?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of mouth-to-mouth, loosening my clothes…"

Peyton watched him disappear into the darkness and decided he was a little outrageous. She liked that. She was outrageous, too, right now. Outrageous felt comfortable to her.

"What are you doing out there?" she yelled. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I've got the fence in place. Now all I have to do is cover it with the plastic and put a few bricks around to hold everything down."

She watched as the tarp was pulled over the giant hole in her roof. Sound echoed off the curtain-less windows and hardwood floors, and light from the bedroom below splashed in crazy patterns against the bare walls. "This is not a pleasant sight," Peyton said looking into her bedroom when Julian returned. "This is…horrible. Like in horror-movie horrible."

Julian watched water drip from the edge of his slicker onto his shoes. "I need to get dry. And you need to cheer up. How about we both go over to my apartment for a while."

"I don't know. I feel sort of guilty about leaving my sinking ship."

He nudged her toward the front door. "Your ship isn't sinking. And it won't mind being left alone. Trust me. I know about these things."

"Oh, yeah? How do you know?"

"I've been left alone, and I never minded."

Peyton raised an eyebrow. "Never?"

"Almost never. Actually, I hated it, but that's because I'm a person, and this is a house, and I don't think houses mind so much. It's pouring outside, how come you weren't wearing a rain coat?"

"I don't have one," she answered easily, enjoying the seemingly caring nature of this new man. "I had this really great black coat, but it got ruined at the cleaners today. I used to have an umbrella somewhere…"

The coat was ruined. What a shame. Julian could hardly keep the smile from spreading across his face. "Good thing we don't have to go outside," he led the way across the narrow hallway.

His apartment was laid out almost identical to hers, but its mood was entirely different. Two forest green wing chairs filled the alcove off the foyer. A large brown leather couch had been placed across from the chairs, and a copper milk-jug lamp cast warm light around the front room. Embers of a dying fire flowed in the small black marble fireplace. Peyton closed her eyes and inhaled. Charred applewood and fresh-baked spice cake.

"Every house in America should smell like this," she said. "This is Mom's apple pie."

"Actually, it's a generic box mix with two eggs and oil."

Peyton followed him to the kitchen at the back of the house and sniffed the layer cake cooling on wire racks on the counter. "This smells great. You baked this for me, didn't you?"

"I don't know. Are you impressed?" She nodded a mischievous look in her eye. "Well, in that case, of course I did." Of course he had.

She picked a crumb from the counter and nibbled it. "You fix roofs, you bake cakes, you feed pizza to distraught women." She watched him drop a handful of beans into a coffee grinder and add water to the electric coffeemaker. "You grind your own coffee beans." She plopped into a ladder-back chair. "What else do you do?"

"That's about it."

"What sort of job do you have?"

"I'm a movie producer."

"And you work from home?"

"Usually."

"That doesn't bother you? Being here all day?"

"No, actually, it's quite liberating to be able to work from my bed various hours of the day," he grinned.

"I've noticed," she muttered. His grin disappeared.

"That's not what I meant," he defended. "I just meant that-"

She held up a hand efficiently cutting him off, "Hey, you don't owe me an explanation, I was just saying."

"But-"

"No matter- Have you been doing that very long- the movie producer thing that is?" she clarified.

"About six months." Bulldog, he thought grimly. He could see it in her eyes. She was going to sink her teeth into him and hang on until she had him figured out. He imagined she did that music. She was probably a holy terror. "You're a musician?"

"Uh- no."

"But I thought you said you were meeting with a band earlier today."

"I was. I did. But I don't sing. I just….scout these up and comings and let my boss know how it went." She looked up at him, "I _want_ to produce music one day. But right now I'm just the talent scout. Which is actually pretty amazing. I get to meet with these amazing bands and I have a company that pays for it and pays me to- I'm sorry." She gave him an apologetic grin, "I could talk about music all night." He wasn't sure what she would be apologizing for- he thought that might be import to figure out.

He flipped the cake onto the plate and handed Peyton a butter knife. "How about you frost the cake while I take a shower."

A stab of panic raced through her. "I don't know how to frost a cake."

"Do you know how to open a can?" He set a large can of chocolate frosting on the table next to the cake.

She gave him a sheepish smile. "I could probably handle that."

He watched as a slight blush crept up her cheeks and thought it the most adorable thing.

Peyton peeled back the easy open lid. "This is amazing," she said. "Frosting in a can." She took a big glob of brown gunk on the tip of her knife and swirled it across the cake. "I love it!"

Julian looked at her in amazement. "Haven't you ever been in a supermarket?"

"Yeah." She shrugged one shoulder. "But I never thought to look for frosting in a can. I'm always in such a rush. When I was a kid, my parents were gone all the time so my mom never made cakes. Then when they died, Lucas would make them or Brooke and I would just get ready made cakes."

"Lucas?"

"Mhmm. He was my bo-best friend. He's an author. He's wonderful." She whispered the last part.

Julian raised an eyebrow. "Wonderful across the board? Or a wonderful author?"

Peyton looked up hesitantly and he changed the subject. "Who's Brooke."

"Oh." She perked up again, "She's my roommate, my best friend." He refrained from pointing out that she had just said that this Lucas fellow was her 'best friend'. "I moved out here with her but she's been in New York for the past couple of weeks trying to get permits to open a store. She's an aspiring fashion designer. She's a genius. Of course I'm a genius, too, just not as great as Brooke." She shot him a wink and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and left a smear of icing traveling down her cheek.

"What makes you say that?"

She shrugged that same shoulder again, with her back to him as she finished frosting the cake. "She's achieving her dreams, taking over the fashion industry. I'm still getting coffee for the boss half the time."

"That doesn't make her better than you." She gave him a small smile. "Must be hard having two geniuses living in the same house." He grinned.

"It can be pretty awful. We're both hard headed and stubborn; we're both passionate about what we do and very driven. It can make for some interesting times. We met when we were seven; both of us pretty much abandoned by our parents and we've been friends ever since. Neither of us knew about frosting in a can," she said.

"Guess there's all kind of genius," he said, feeling foolishly happy. His wet shoes squished water onto the kitchen linoleum, and he wondered if anyone else felt the earth shift in its orbit.

* * *

Peyton opened one eye and directed and oath at the person pounding on her front door. She snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag Julian had loaned her, but the pounding continued. She looked at her watch. Seven-thirty. What idiot was pounding on her door at seven-thirty in the morning? Didn't they know she was tired? Didn't they know she'd slept on the living room floor because it had the upgraded rug? The pounding stopped and was immediately replaced with loud shouts of her name.

Brooke Davis. She'd recognize that voice anywhere. Peyton unzipped the bag and padded barefoot through the foyer to the front door. "Brooke, what the hell are you doing?"

"Wow, who woke up on the wrong side of the bed, or the, uh, floor," she clarified as she glanced behind the blond. "Are you sleeping on the floor?"

"It's a long story," she mumbled sleepily not moving from the doorway.

Brooke looked around the main foyer of their floor that she was still standing in, I have to say P. Sawyer I'm a little bit impressed. The Calasis is a pretty nice property."

"Yes, well, lucky for you, my boss knew somebody who knew somebody otherwise we'd have been out of luck. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find an apartment, in L.A, in November, with three weeks notice?"

Brooke just stared at her. She took in her limp disheveled curls, the dark circles under her eyes, the hideous flannel hanging off of her form- who was this crazy woman. "Peyton, are you drunk?"

"What? No. I'm not drunk? Why?"

She shrugged, "You look a little rough."

"Well like I said, it's a long story."

Brooke nodded, "Ok. Help me get these cases in and then you can tell me all about it."

Peyton looked behind her and wasn't surprised to see three heavy looking cases sitting behind her. "How did you get these this far?"

"Oh," she gave a dimpled grin, "the man living there," she pointed to 3C, "helped. He's so nice. Easy to look at too. Have you met him?"

Peyton didn't look up as she struggled to pull one of the cases forward, she wasn't winning, "I may have seen him around. A little help!" she added irritably.

"Oh. Right." Brooke popped over and her small hands grasped the handle along with Peyton's as they struggled to pull the bag in.

"Seriously, Brooke, _what_ is in here," she gritted out just before Brooke lost her balance on her four inch heels and fell into Peyton, sending both girls to the floor in a heap.

Julian stood just outside the elevator with a bag of doughnuts in his hand, "If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I'd never have believed it."

Peyton tugged her nightgown down over her knees and struggled to free herself from Brooke's tangled limbs. "Where'd you come from? Why do you always arrive _after_ a disaster?"

"I went to the bakery. I always go to the bakery on Sunday morning." He lifted Peyton off the carpeted floor. "I was walking down the street, thinking how boring my life was before I met you, and there you were… flying through the air in your nightgown."

"Are you both just going to stand there?" Brooke huffed. "I probably just broke every bone in my body."

Julian eased her to her feet and handed her her dropped handbag, holding her by the arm to steady her on those crazy shoes she was wearing. "You know the next time you try breaking in you should just try the knob, it's usually unlocked," he gave her full blown smile, showing off his rows of perfectly even pearly whites.

Brooke narrowed her eyes at him and jerked her arm from his grasp. "I'm not breaking in. I _live_ here." She straightened her coat, hauled herself through the door, letting herself into the house. "How come there's no furniture?"

"Easier to vacuum," Julian said.

Brooke's eyes narrowed again and she turned to face the blond, "Peyton?"

Peyton turned her head, looking intently at a corner of the ceiling.

"Peyton _where_ is the furniture?"

"What furniture Brooke? What did we own to take with us?"

Reality seemed to hit petite girl like a slap in the face. "You mean to tell me we have no furniture?"

"Well, I had a bed until yesterday. It had a bit of an accident."

"Uh-huh," she said. "What kind of accident?" She looked accusingly at Julian.

"Whoa," he held his hands up, "not my fault."

"The ceiling fell in."

"Uh-huh."

Peyton pulled at a string on her nightgown, "And it rained before we could close up the hole."

Brooke pressed her lips together and stomped down the hallway towards a closed door that she presumed to be a bedroom. Throwing the door open Peyton heard her mumble a _shit_ as she came up behind her. Turning around the brunette raised an eyebrow at Peyton and the man who seemed to be following her. "I guess this ruined any goings-on you had going on in this bed."

"I didn't have _any_ goings-on in this bed." She replied, eyes narrowed.

Brooke didn't miss Julian's raised eyebrows in a look that said, _Oh, yeah? I could fix that_.

Peyton grabbed the bag of doughnuts, pushing them aside until she found a boston cream and stuffed it into her mouth. "Eg wibe thad smile oaf your fash," she said glaring at Julian. Swallowing a big lump of doughnut, she said, "I need coffee."

"We're going to make coffee," he called to Brooke as she'd taken her rolling luggage down the hall to the next empty room. "You want some?"

"Coffee would be great," Brooke said as she walked back to join them. "How many doughnuts have you got?"

"A whole bagful."

"Hmmm…I wouldn't mind having someone deliver me breakfast everyday." Brooke mentioned as she took a bite out of a chocolate cream. "Hey P. Sawyer, why don't you start making breakfast everyday." At Peyton's grunt, Brooke smiled, turning a perfectly arched eyebrow toward Julian. "I don't suppose you've got an extra room?"

"Uh, afraid not."

"All right, then I guess I'm stuck here," she pouted. "I'm going to go sort through my suit cases until I can get some furniture. And Peyton, can you _please_ change out of that hideous thing! I don't know what the hell you're doing in a big ugly nightgown like that. It's no wonder you're bed hasn't seen any action." She was still muttering her displeasure as she stalked down the hall.

Walking into the bedroom she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She really didn't have anything to do in the empty room but she wanted to give those two a few minutes alone. If she hadn't misread the look in Julian's eyes, and she almost never misread those looks, he'd prefer more than a few minutes. She was glad Peyton seemed to be interested in someone. She could certainly get used to seeing him around the house.

She'd been worried about her best friend. Peyton lived as if Lucas had never happened. She didn't talk about him, didn't refer to him, and his name had become a virtual curse word among them. Brooke wasn't fooled, she wasn't over the blond- how could she be? They'd taken off just three days after the break up- Peyton throwing herself into her new job, new friends, her new world. And as far as anyone else knew, she never looked back. The brunette knew better. However, as she heard murmuring come from the kitchen, a well build, sexy distraction may be just what she needs.

"This is my favorite nightgown," she said in defense, to no one in particular. "It's soft and warm and comforting. For crying out loud my roof caved in!" she slammed two mugs onto the counter, "Is it wrong of me to want a _little _comfort?" she turned to Julian. "You think this nightgown's big and ugly?"

He answered without a moment's hesitation. He did what any intelligent man would- he lied. "No. Not ugly at all. Not with you in it."

That much was true he thought. Peyton Sawyer could make a garbage bag look good. Besides, the nightgown wasn't exactly ugly. It was just inappropriate. Peyton's tousled hair and bottle green eyes needed satin. A hot pink satin babydoll without panties. Or a slinky black silk teddy.

He was lying she could tell, and she appreciated the effort, but she couldn't keep the thought out of her mind that Lucas would have said the same thing- and meant it.

"Unh-unh, watch out for this one," Brooke clucked, eyeing Julian as she rejoined them back in the kitchen, "He's got plans." She smirked.

Peyton chuckled and walked to the bathroom to grab her robe. Sliding her feet into a pair of Ugg slippers, she reappeared in the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove to boil and set a jar of instant coffee on the table. "Hope you don 't mind instant. Haven't had a chance to get a real coffee maker."

Julian didn't mind instant as long as he could watch Peyton move around the kitchen in her fuzzy white robe. Most of the women he knew would have rushed off to the bathroom to comb their hair and put on lipstick, but Peyton obviously felt comfortable being rumpled. He liked that. She'd be the kind of woman who'd cuddle with you long into the night, not caring about wrinkled sheets or the tangles in her hair.

"Well, I gotta run," Brooke announced. She pulled out her check book and signed a check handing it over to Peyton. "Go get some furniture."

"Broo-"

"Peyton, I am NOT living in an _empty_ apartment. Go get some furniture and we'll go out this week and get the rest of the stuff." She picked up her purse and walked to the front door. "I'm serious P. We both better have beds when I get back. And a couch. And a freakin' TV!"

The door closed behind her with a bang and Peyton jumped. Julian reached over and rubbed a piece of the fuzzy white fabric on her arm between his thumb and forefinger. "What is this stuff?" he asked. "It looks like fake sheepskin."

"Yup. That's what it is. Fake sheepskin." She watched him warily. "This wouldn't just be a ploy to fondle me, would it?"

"That hurts, Peyt."

The nick name caught her off guard so she whispered her, "Just checking."

"You get fondled a lot?"

"Generally- not unless I'm getting paid," she replied without thought.

He choked on his coffee before her head whipped around. "That's not what I meant," she clarified.

"Uh-huh," he nodded amused.

"It's not," she exclaimed. "I just meant. You know. It's the music industry." His eyebrows arched. "You know, drop a button here, get a raise there." His grin widened. "Ok. _So_ not what I meant."

She was embarrassed now, and he was loving it; the red tint to her cheeks. She mumbled again, _not what I meant_ and he laughed out loud. She certainly wasn't boring, that was for sure.

He nodded and Peyton realized that she felt mildly threatened, thoroughly intrigued, and uncomfortably attracted to him. The hardest part for her, was reminding herself that it was ok for her to feel that way.

* * *

It was past midnight when Haley heard commotion downstairs in the kitchen. Baseball bat in hand she made her way quietly down the steps and peered around the corner. Whoever was in her house was bent over looking in the open door of the fridge.

"Don't move," she cried out and turned on the light.

Of course he stood up, an amused smile cracking his usual stern face at the sight of her baseball bat. "Hey Hales. Nice to see you too."

"You scared me," she chastised, smacking his chest for good measure before giving him a huge. "I was afraid you weren't coming back."

"Nah, of course I was coming back. All my clothes are here," he reasoned with her.

"Yeah, yeah. You know Nathan didn't mean –"

"Yeah he did, Hales," he interrupted her. "And maybe he was right," he shrugged and refused to meet her eyes. "Anyway, we're starting the book tour in three weeks so I figured I'd better come home and take care of some business."

"Right, and what kind of business would that be? You have no real job, no more classes?"

"I'm sure I'll find something to do," he said as he walked to the main floor bedroom. "Night Hales."

"Night," she whispered after he'd closed his door. Why did she have a feeling that his 'something to do' involved hours of typing about a blond girl he may never see again?

He sat on the foot of his bed with his cell phone in his hands. Maybe he needed to make the first move. Maybe it was long overdue. It was definitely long overdue. Was it too late? He dialed the first six numbers but he couldn't bring himself to hit the last one. What if she didn't want to hear from him. He glanced at the clock, 12:18am- it'd be after 4am there- she definitely wouldn't want to hear from at 4am. Unless she felt about him the way that he still felt about her. He'd be happy to hear from her anytime of any day.

He glanced back down at his phone and at his itinerary for the book tour. He took a deep breath and typed her number into his phone and typed a quick neutral text and pressed 'Send' before he could chicken out.

* * *

_4:18am- why was she not asleep?_ She thought as she stared from her clock to her ceiling. She rolled over and tried to get comfortable on her new mattress, which was currently sitting on the floor since her new furniture wouldn't be here for almost three weeks.

She heard Lucas' ring tone from her phone and she pulled the pillow over her head with a groan. She heard it often, but every time she'd answer there was nothing but a dial tone. It was all in her head. She wouldn't answer it this time.

Then she heard the distinctive beep signaling a text message and she bolted up straight, tripping over the blankets as she scurried from the bed and grabbed her phone.

"You have a text from Lucas Scott," she read aloud to herself. She was almost afraid to open it; the last note she read from him hadn't worked out too well. She'd read it later- after she'd had a good sleep.

Oh, who was she kidding? Of course she was going to read it now. She hit 'Ok' and held her breath.

_Hey. My book finally got published. They're launching the book tour in LA in three weeks, Dec. 15. You're a big part of the book, it would mean a lot to me if you came._

_-Lucas_

She sat cross legged on her bed, wide eyed as she read over the message again and again. What did he mean by 'It would mean a lot to me if you came?'

There was probably only one way to find out. She hit 'Reply' and typed in _Yeah, of course_, and pressed 'Send', then lay back on her bed and wondered where this would leave them.

His phone beeped signaling he had a message. He picked it up off of his desk and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw who it was from. _Peyton_, he felt her name slip past his lips for the first time in almost a year. He hadn't expected her to be up, he hadn't expect a reply so soon- or at all. His finger shook as he pressed 'Ok' and waited for the message to appear on the screen. Her reply '_Yeah, of course_' was so simple and yet so much. He was suddenly excited and sick at the same time. What would this mean for them?

* * *

A/N: You guys are awesome! So many reviews- thank you! I tried to post this last night but FF was having a kitten and wouldn't let me. I'm nervous about posting this chapter because a) it's un-beta'd and b) it's 110% filler- but it manuvers the story from point A to point B, which begins in chapter five. How bad do you want chapter five? Let me know in a review :-)


	5. You Is All I See

Title from the song 'Beautiful Distraction' by Josh Hoge

Disclaimer: I still own nothing

* * *

"Hey," Peyton yawned as she walked into the kitchen to find her roommate sitting Indian style on the hardwood floor. "What are you doing on the floor?" she asked as she placed a K-cup into their new Keurig and made a cup of coffee.

"Well, seeing as how we still have no furniture, it was the only option." She maneuvered a bite of Special K around her mouth before speaking again, "When was that stuff supposed to be delivered again?."

"Ohh," she groaned as she lowered herself down to the floor next to Brooke. "Uh- four to six weeks. But that was three weeks ago, so should be here in the next one to three."

Brooke just nodded. "I can't even remember what we picked out."

Peyton smirked, she highly doubted that. "Look I have today off; I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping or something." She watched as the brunette's eyes lit up under a quirked brow as she changed the subject.

"_You_ want to go shopping?" she asked disbelieving.

Peyton shrugged, "Yeah. I need a few things; thought I could use your expertise." She gave her a sly smile.

"And just what exactly are we shopping for? Do you have a date?" Her voice was hopeful and Peyton rolled her eyes.

"I don't have a date. I just… wanted something new- for this thing I'm going to tomorrow."

"What thing?"

"It's nothing. God!" she Peyton laughed. "If I knew I'd be getting interrogated, I wouldn't have asked." She got up to put her cup in the sink.

"I'm not _interrogating _you," she Brooke stated, slightly offended, "I just need to know what we're looking for."

"I was thinking a dress."

"A dress?" she asked skeptically.

"_Yes_," Peyton laughed again, "Is it that unheard of that I wear a dress?"

"Uh- yeah."

Her Peyton's eyes rolled again, "Well it doesn't have to be a dress. I was just thinking something kinda _sexy_ but casual and totally daytime appropriate. I don't know- a dress just came to mind."

"Ok. We'll go find you a dress," she agreed; her eyebrow still quirked, a knowing grin plastered to her face. "And jewelry," she was standing now, "And of course you'll need shoes," Peyton watched amused as Brooke continued to talk to herself as she took her bowl with her down the hall to finish her breakfast into her room while she dressed.

* * *

Three hours later they were still perusing through the stores in downtown LA. "What do you think of this one?" Peyton held up a brown sun dress with beading on the bodice.

Brooke's face scrunched up in disgust. "OK. That's a no," Peyton said as she hung the item back up.

"First off," the fashion designer held up one perfectly manicured finger, "they're predicting a high of 60 tomorrow- you'd freeze. Second," her voice dropped to a hurried whisper as she looked around them, "do you have any idea how bad it would make me look, Brooke Davis, if I let you leave the house in that? Here," she thrust a garment into Peyton's arms, "try this."

Peyton took it obediently into the fitting room and came out to model the pale pink cloth in front of the three way mirror. She walked out of the dressing room with her face scrunched up, and cautiously asked, "What do you think?"

"It fits well." Brooke stated as she circled the blond. "The cut's good." Her forehead creased as she pulled down on the back of the skirt a little bit. "Of course," she bit out, "I couldn't tell you if it's appropriate or not, seeing as how I don't know where you're going."

Peyton's eyes rolled for the umpteenth time that day. "I'm sure it's appropriate, Brooke." She adjusted the skirt herself as she looked in the mirror. It was just a simple, long-sleeved cotton dress with a low cut v-neck. The hem line fell just above her knees. "I'm not too sure about the color, though," she muttered to herself.

"The colors fine; makes your cheeks look rosey. You look healthy." She stood slightly behind Peyton as she looked at the two of them in the mirror. Her porcelain skin against Peyton's more olive tones. "How do you still look tan in the middle of December?"

"It's a gift," she said as she walked back into the room to change. "So what now? Shoes?"

"Oh, honey, need you ask?"

* * *

He was a bundle of nerves as his plane touched down in LA. She'd said she would come to his signing, but that wasn't for another fourteen hours and 42 minutes. What was he going to do until then?.

"Do you wanna stop and get something to eat?" Lindsey asked as she turned to him from her seat.

"Uh- no, I'm good. I think I'm just going to head straight to the hotel." He answered as he unbuckled his seat belt stood to reach overhead for their carry on cases. Always the gentleman, he handed her hers first to which she gave him a smile, before he grabbed his own.

"You sure? It'll be a while 'til breakfast."

"Yeah. I'm sure. I couldn't eat right now anyways,." Lucas threw over his shoulder as they stepped off the plan.

"Nervous?" she asked, a sympathetic tilt to her head.

"You could say that," he grinned. Nervous, however, was probably a gross understatement.

"You'll do fine. You're book is great Lucas- they're going to love it." He nodded- she had no idea.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to baggage claim. Once they'd retrieved their bags Lucas grabbed them each a cab.

"We're going to the same place, Lucas, I think we can share a cab." Her voice was teasing and he looked on confused.

"I thought you were going to get something to eat?"

She shrugged, "I'll be fine. I'm not really that hungry either." She ducked into the cab and scooted over for him to sit next to her. When they pulled up to the hotel Lucas paid and tipped the driver. "Be sure to keep all of your receipts, the company will reimburse you for expenses." He nodded that he understood and silently made his way to the check in counter.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found out that their rooms were on separate floors. Lindsey seemed a little…full on lately.

"So I'll meet you at your room about nine?" she suggested.

"I could just meet you in the lobby," he offered.

Disappointment seemed to cloud her eyes before she nodded and silently made her way toward the elevators.

Lucas waited for the elevator doors to close behind her before he pressed the button for his own. A few seconds of waiting and the doors opened, revealing the empty metal cell. He pulled his luggage in behind him and pressed the button for the 16th floor.

The flight had been long. They had had first class seats and Lindsey hadn't been over talkative, but just being around her lately made him feel twitchy. Haley had mentioned shortly before he left that his editor seemed to have a crush on him. He'd brushed it off, but as a precaution he'd tried to be extra careful not to do anything that may lead her on. All of the extra self awareness was exhausting. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the lift took him skyward.

When he walked into his room he fell backwards onto the bed, intent on getting some rest. Thirty minutes later sleep still hadn't come. He walked to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. The city lights sixteen floors below shown like a sea of Christmas lights. Streets were lined in neat rows of white, while cars zipped back and forth in reds. Buildings and Bars had bright greens and blues, blinking and flashing to various rhythms. It was oddly soothing.

He backed away from the window pulling his shirt tails out of his pants and undoing the buttons down the front of his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair in tired frustration before pulling his suitcase on top of the bed. He didn't know what he was going to wear tomorrow. "What would Peyton like?" he muttered to himself as he pulled out several button down shirts. "She always liked this color," pulling out a slate gray. He laid it on the bed to contemplate. "Or this," he sat a light blue next to it. He held the two shirts up in front of him, one in each hand, before dropping them on the bed. "I'm being a girl."

He dropped to the plush chair behind him, elbows to his knees and head in his hands. He stared at the bed for a few minutes before giving up and walking back to the case. He pulled out a pair of black pants and a pair of dark gray, walked all four items to the ironing board and spent the next forty-five minutes pressing the wrinkles out of them. _Now they're all ready, I can decide in the morning._

* * *

She got dressed carefully the next day. Taking the time to make sure her hair was curled just right and her make-up was flawless. She pulled the soft cotton over her head and pushed a pair of studs into her ears. On impulse she grabbed a long beaded necklace and pulled it over her head before checking her hair again. It was as good as she was going to get- which wasn't that bad if she did say so herself.

She spun a small circle in her room and glanced at the clock. Only two and half more hours until the book signing- she was going to throw up.

She walked around LA for a little while to try and calm the butterflies in her stomach before she headed to the book store. She felt the stupid smile on her lips and she, for the life of her, could not erase it from her mouth. She hadn't seen him in almost 18 months. A year and a half. They had never gone that long without seeing each other. The rest of the walk she dreamed about the way he would look and played out various scenarios in her head. Would he be as happy to see her as he was to see him? What was he expecting? She stopped suddenly and turned around. She'd just walked right past the bookstore.

* * *

Lucas stood in his baby blue shirt and charcoal gray pants, a decision born that morning of a juvenile 'eenie meanie' game, behind a table set up at the back of the store. Hundreds of copies of his book flanked him of either side, along with a mound sitting atop the table. The signing was set to start in about two minutes and there were easily over three hundred that had already shown up.

"Wow, this is a great turn out," Lindsey said as she joined Lucas behind the table. Her black pants and white button down top looked a little boring against the colors of an array of people lined up to get his autograph. "Listen Lucas, I know this was your first book as an author but it was also my first book to edit and I had the best year doing it. So I just wanted to say thank you and I'm proud of you." She put her hand on the far side of his neck and pulled his face down to her lips, kissing him softly on the cheek.

He blinked surprised as she pulled away and placed her hand on his shoulder, "Ok," she said happily. "You ready?"

He cleared his throat and swallowed the soar response that wanted to come out, "Yeah," he looked around. "I guess everybody's here that's coming."

Peyton gently maneuvered her way to the front of the crowd. She heard several rude remarks but paid no attention to them. He had wanted her there with him. He had specifically asked _her _to be there. How many of them could say that? She gradually made it to the front of the line, rounding a corner just in time to see Lindsey pull Lucas' face down to kiss his cheek.

Her breath caught in her throat as she quickly backed up before she turned around and ran out of the bookstore. The bell chimed over her head as she briskly walked back through the door, looking down at her hands. She briefly noticed the book still there that she had forgotten to pay for. _Oh well_, she thought just before she slammed into a hard body.

"Oh, sorry," a man in a dark suit said as he reached a hand out to steady her.

"Excuse me I'm- I'm sorry," she stuttered before she looked up and realized that she knew this man.

"Oh, hey, if it isn't Peyton Sawyer," he said with a grin, before concern over took his face, "Who- looks- like- the saddest girl in the world. What's wrong?"

"I'm not sad", she defended," as she sniffed and wiped her eyes with a finger."

"Ok but I've known you for over three weeks now and I've never seen you with tears in your eyes." His voice was so tender that it brought a fresh batch of moisture to her eyes.

"Maybe they're tears of joy," she said desperately.

"True," he conceded. "Are they?"

"No," she said begrudgingly, a pout pulling at her bottom lip.

"Ok. Good. Cause I've got a favor to ask you. How would you like to accompany me to this hideous industry party full of snooty rich people and shallow egocentric hotshot movie producer types?"

"Sounds awful."

"Sooo, is that a yes?" he asked hopeful, as he started to walking next to her down the side walk.

"You really want 'the saddest girl in the world' as your date?" she asked scornfully.

"Oh no no no no, it's not a date. I just want your tears. One look at the crying girl on my arm and nobody's going to wonder why I'm leaving early." If he was trying to cheer her up he was doing a pretty good job.

She smiled and gave a small breathy laugh.

"Hold on, what'd I say? 'Cause if you start smiling like that we're going to be stuck at this thing," he bumped his shoulder against hers; his eyes twinkling.

Not thirty minutes later she was being ushered through a snazzy hotel lobby into one of the ballrooms.

"Oh, I am totally underdressed," She raised a hand to her flushed cheek, embarrassed.

"No, no, you look great," he said as he placed a hand lightly at the curve of her back to guide her to a chair. "Besides this is Hollywood, the worse you're dressed, the more important people think you are."

"Well, they must assume I'm the Pope," she mumbled, bringing a smile to his mouth.

"Oh, wow, thank you," Julian said to a man in Armani as he shook his hand, "thanks for coming."

"You didn't tell me it was your Bar Mitzvah," she joked.

"It's a fund raiser for a script I'm trying to get made. Talk about boring- it's a good thing you brought a book." He jutted his chin to the article still held tightly within her grasp.

"Uh- yeah- I was hoping to get it signed, I was pretty close with the author. I feel really dumb for brining it in."

"Oh, no, don't," he glanced at the cover, and her words from several weeks ago shot through his mind as he saw the author's name. _Lucas Scott…best friend…an author…wonderful_. He shook his head lightly, "What's it about?"

"Me. Sort of," Her nose crinkled up in a way he'd come to realize she used as an unspoken apology, usually when one wasn't needed.

"Then I completely understand why you wanted it _here_ with you."

She laughed.

"See there's that smile again, now we're never going to get out of here," He nodded his head and spoke a greeting to another well dressed man before turning his attention back to the blond who had seemed to have captured a small piece of him.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to make the best of it," she grinned. Julian's attention seemed to bring out something in her that had been missing for a while; it wasn't lost on the blond how quickly he was able to take her mind off of Lucas. Maybe that was just what she needed- Lucas had obviously moved on, apparently it was time for her to as well.

* * *

With a heavy heart and a sigh Lucas signed the inside cover for the last person in line. He'd held out hope all day that Peyton would show up, but she hadn't come. He sat back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his neck to try and ease the tight muscles. He should have known better than to get his hopes up for something like this, he thought bitterly as he stood.

"Well, that was the last of them," Lindsey said with a smile as she rejoined Lucas at the table.

"Yeah," he replied hoarsely, his throat scratchy from chatting with fans all day, "how do you think it went?"

"I think it went great! That was a much bigger turn out than we were expecting." She said with a large smile. "Hey, I thought you had plans tonight?"

"Uh, no. I- no."

"Well you want to grab some dinner or something? There's this place down the street that has really great-"

"No," he interrupted her and he looked to the ground not meeting her eyes, "I'm just going to head back to the hotel. Probably order in, go to bed."

Her head nodded slightly, "Well, I guess I'll be seeing ya."

His head popped back up to look at her curiously. He knew she had no idea what weight those words carried, but hearing them said in that tone, with the articulation just right, he shook his head to dispel the images it brought up in his mind.

"Later," he said with a curt nod and he quickly walked past her, out the door, and onto the busy sidewalks of LA. He had to get out of there. Out of the bookstore; out of LA. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Lindsey's number.

"You change your mind?" was the way she answered the call.

"Uh, no. Not exactly. Is there any way we can leave tonight?" he asked quickly, determined.

"Leave? LA?" she asked confused.

"Yeah," he responded, "Leave LA, head to the next stop. Move the date up or stay there longer, I don't care."

"Lucas are you ok?" He sounded a little hysterical.

"Yeah. I'm fine, just get me out of this god damn town!" he winced, that came out a little rougher than he meant for it to, but he was desperate. He couldn't be here knowing that Peyton hadn't wanted to see him; knowing that he could run into her; knowing that it was really over.

"I'll see what I can do," she muttered over the line. She stared at the phone when he hung up and wondered what had happened to the man who had written such beautiful words about love and passion. The man who's gentleness and compassion had won her over nearly two years ago. The change seemed to start when he had handed over the book for her to edit. Could the fame really be getting to him already?

With the beginning of a head ache coming on, Lindsey dialed her boss in New York before having their flights changed. She texted Lucas the new information then headed back to her room to pack. So much for dinner.

* * *

He walked her to her apartment door later that afternoon, and then followed her inside after she'd unlocked the door.

Brooke was sitting on the kitchen counter when they walked in. She took in Peyton's new dress, her swollen eyes and still red nose and drew her own conclusions.

Her head whipped so quickly in Julian's direction that he was surprised she didn't get whiplash. He instantly brought his hands up in a surrendering gesture and said, "She was like that when I found her."

Brooke turned again to Peyton, who was by now shaking her head in amusement. Thoese two were two of a kind and neither seemed to notice it. "I'm fine," she defended before Brooke could voice her questions. "Tired and in need of a hot shower, but fine."

"Peyton-" Brooke started.

"Fine," She hollered again as she walked her way to her bedroom. She knew that later that night over ice cream and coffee she would confide to Brooke what had gone on that day, but not while Julian was here. Right now she was going to do as she'd said and take a long hot shower.

* * *

"I can't believe they just _left_ all of this stuff here," Brooke grumbled as she walked past large boxes to get to the kitchen.

"I know," Peyton said from the counter where she was waiting on the single serve brewer to spit out her coffee, "at least the TV guy put the TV on the wall."

Brooke toed one of the larger boxes, "You would have thought they would have at least put them in the right room."

When they had set up delivery for their new furniture, neither girl had thought to question if it included set up. So they now had two bedroom suites plus a living room and dining room set all sitting in boxes in their foyer.

"Why don't you ask Julian to move it?"

"Brooke, we can't just ask him to come move our stuff."

"Why not, he's here all of the time, Peyton. I'm sure he'd jump at any chance to get in your bedroom- even if it is to assemble it."

"Brooke," she started but her cell range. "It's Nate."

"Oh, tell him I said hi. I have to go." She said as she walked into her room to get her stuff.

"Hey," Peyton said happily when she answered the phone and waved an animated goodbye to Brooke.

"Ok, Sawyer," his stern voice came from the other end, "I'm supposed to believe that the reason I haven't heard from you in over a month is because a _roof_ fell on your bed?" He teased her; incredulously.

"Yes! It did. I swear!" she yelled into the phone.

"Uh-huh," he deadpans.

She laughs, "I'm serious!"

"Riiiight," he teased her, "and how did it get there?"

"I don't know!" she threw her free hand up in the air, "There was an earthquake and then the whole thing just _fell_ on my bed!"

"Well I guess that ruined anything you had going on in your bed," he smirked.

"That's what Brooke said!" she exclaimed.

He laughed, "Well, she's a smart woman. You know L.A. is starting to sound pretty dangerous. Earthquakes and roofs falling in- I think you need to come home."

She laughed, every single time they spoke he tried to convince her to move back to North Carolina. "I'm not moving back Nate. Things are going really well here. I got a big promotion and we just moved into this great new apartment-"

"You mean the one without a roof?"

She laughed again, he was always making her do that, "It was _temporary, _it's fixed now. Plus we got discounted rent for six months."

"OK. Well, if you wanted me to come out there, you didn't have to make up some story about your roof falling in," she could _hear_ him smirking over the phone.

"What? No. It wasn't a ploy- it really did fall in," she defended. There was a knock at her front door, "Wait. But if it was a ploy- would it have worked?" Before he got a chance to answer, she pulled open the door and Julian stood there in work out gear. "Oh hey, Nate, I have to go," she said into the phone as she held one finger up to Julian, signaling for him to wait.

"What? You've only been on the phone for, like, two minutes."

"I know I'm sorry," she really was regretful, "but Julian's here. I have to."

"Wait! Who's-"

"I'll call you later!" she promised.

"Peyton! Wait, who's-" the phone clicked and he got the dial tone. "Julian," he spoke the last bit to himself.

"Hey," she gave a megawatt smile to the man standing just inside her door, "what's up?"

"Not much. Wondering if you could give me a ride somewhere?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Where to?"

"You drive, I'll direct," he smirked.

"Ok," she laughed as she agreed to follow his lead. She was quickly realizing that wasn't too much she wouldn't do when he asked.

* * *

"Aren't you the least bit concerned about him?" Haley asked exasperated when he walked into the kitchen.

Nathan paused as he set his phone on top of the laminate counter of their rental and watched as she threw an arm up in the air, the other was firmly fisted onto her hip. Nathan just shook his head. "He's a grown man Hales, he doesn't have to call and check in."

"We haven't heard from him in over three weeks! What if something's happened."

"If something had happened Lindsey would have told you in one of the many conversations the two of you have daily."

"Well, uh-,"she grunted, this argument wasn't going anywhere. She wanted Nathan to pick up the phone and call Lucas and find out what was wrong. And then tell her. Of course Nathan was having none of it. "Can't you please just call him?"

"And say what, Haley? 'Oh, uh, hey, Luke, just wondering why we haven't heard from you since you left for LA?'"

"Yes! That's exactly what I want you to ask him."

"No. If the two of you are such 'best friends' now you call him. I'm not getting involved in this."

She dropped her hand from her hip and slowly walked her way toward him, and he knew he was toast. "Please," she whispered quietly as she locked her arms around his middle, her large brown eyes even larger as they looked up into his.

He let out a breath, "Fine." He picked his phone back up as she smiled up at him.

It rang twice before Lucas picked up. "Hey man, what's up?....Not much. Just haven't heard from you in a while...just checking in, seeing how things are going….Ok, well, good. Cool….yeah, man, catch ya later." He ended the call and looked down at Haley, whose eyes had turned significantly cooler. "He's fine."

"Seriously?" she pushed herself away from him.

"What!? What did you expect? We're guys, we don't have long drawn out conversations. I asked how he was, he says he's fine, I'm inclined to believe that until he says otherwise."

Haley let out a puff of air. "You honestly believe that he's fine?"

"Honestly? No," he leveled her with a look. "But I don't think that has anything to do with his book and I don't think he's going to tell us anything about it until he's ready to. IF he's ready to."

"Fine," she grumbled in defeat. She picked the cordless phone up off the counter and dialed a series of numbers. "Hey, Lindsey…. How's it going?...Have you talked to Lucas lately…."

Nathan shook his head as he watched her walk out of the kitchen talking to Lindsey. He could understand their friendship. He could understand her friendship with Lucas. But he didn't think it was wise for her to keep trying to push the two of them together- no matter how well intentioned. It drove him absolutely mad that she wouldn't listen to him about the subject.

* * *

She drove him to the desired location and looked around, "Ok. Now what?"

He pointed to a touch football game in progress on the playing field to their right. "See that group of guys? Those are the Blood-and-Guts Couch Potatoes. We play football every Wednesday afternoon." He got out of the car and jogged around to open the driver side door for Peyton.

"You belong to something called the Blood-and-Guts Couch Potatoes?"

He took her by the hand and pulled her along. "You bet. Charter member."

She curled her hand around his and thought it was interesting that from the very beginning she'd never needed the usual amount of insulting body space with Julian Baker. She liked being close to him. That was the problem; she liked it too much. And if the truth were known, she'd like to be even closer. A lot closer. She liked the way he held her hand, slid an arm around her shoulders, tweaked a curl. His touch was firm and confident without being grabby. It was possessive without being insulting. It was satisfying.

Julian's touch filled a small corner of her that had been empty since Lucas had left. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with the herding instinct, she'd decided. Animals needed physical contact. They needed to bump along together. And Julian was a good bumper. There was the potential for a wonderful friendship to grow between them. There was also the potential for a disastrous love affair. She shook off the latter thought.

"Are you going to play football now?" she asked.

"No. I'm going to recruit someone to help us get all of that furniture you and Brooke had delivered to your living room moved to the various places that it belongs."

To Peyton, the Couch Potatoes looked like an unremarkable group of men dressed in name brand sports gear and high end sneakers.

Someone threw the ball to Julian, and he held on to it while the game was interrupted for introductions. Julian waited a beat before slapping a cheerful smile onto his mouth. "So who's going to help me move some furniture?"

None of the Potatoes looked too excited.

"Okay," Julian said, "pizza and beer." That seemed to get their attention as they slowly made their way from the field to pick up their belongings mumbling different versions of "_too cold to play anyway_."

Minutes later Peyton buckled her seat belt and watched the men head to their cars. "Is there anything they won't do for beer and pizza?"

"Hey, we aren't named the Couch Potatoes for nothing."

"The Couch Potatoes looked like they were in pretty good shape."

"Yeah, we're into clean living."

They parked in front of the apartment complex some thirty minutes later and watched as the men piled out behind them. She led the men to her floor with a large smile on her face. She opened the door and stuck her head in, "Brooke!" she yelled. "You here?"

Brooke sauntered into the foyer dressed in black yoga pants and a matching black tank top. Her hear was pulled up in a messy pony bun and there was a thin layer of sweat covering her face. Peyton smirked. "Yeah, I'm here. Why?"

"Because," Peyton said as she pushed the door open wider, "we have company." Her hand gestured to the group of 6 men standing behind her. Her smile grew as she watched a faint blush creep over Brooke's face.

"_Peyton_," she hissed, and threw a brilliant smile to the men who had walked into her apartment, "excuse us," she said as she pulled Peyton by the arm into her room, closing the door behind them. "Why didn't you tell me you were bringing men over here!?" she demanded.

Peyton laughed. For all the stunts Brooke had pulled over the years it was kind of nice to be in her shoes for once. "I didn't know I was bringing them over until they were following me over here."

"You have a cell! You could have called. Look at me!" she whined.

"You look great Brooke. Don't worry about it," she brushed off. "Just go out there and tell them where you want everything to go."

"I am _not_ going out there like this," she hissed again.

"Well. Suit yourself," she said with a wicked grin as she stepped out of the door. She heard Brooke's muffled scream of 'uhhah' when she closed the door behind her.

An hour and a half later the Potatoes had moved and set up two queen sized beds, four bedside tables, three dressers, one couch, one love seat, a dining set and six bookshelves. To say she was impressed would be an understatement.

"We have to do men's stuff now," Julian said as the men trooped out her door, over to his apartment. "We have to go over to my place and watch a hockey game and drink beer and bore the hell out of one another."

She laughed, "If it's so boring, why do you do it?"

"It's traditional. Only married guys get excused from having this much fun." He thought about it a minute. "Want to get married?"

"Um, no. Nothing personal."

"And after everything I've done for you, you won't do this one small favor for me. Okay, so you won't marry me. How about a date Friday night?"

She gave him a coy little smile, "You want to take me on a date with you, to repay _you_ for helping _me?"_

"Absolutely."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Actually, it's my second choice," he admitted. "I didn't think you'd go for the first."

Peyton rolled her eyes and turned to leave, but he took her arm. "Wait! I swear, I really want to take you out." It was the truth. He needed to know more about her. He was besotted. He'd never felt so strongly attracted to one woman before. He wasn't even sure he'd been joking when he'd asked her to marry him.

"OK. There's this band, Inner Surge, that I have to check out at the Far Bar at 10:00, you can go with me."

"That's great! I love Inner Surge."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. She suspected he'd never heard of them; he didn't exactly seem like the type to fan after that kind of music. "OK, well, meet me here at 9:15 and we can go over together."

* * *

Lindsey tapped her foot impatiently against the marble tile of the hotel lobby. They had arrived in Chicago late the night before and had agreed to meet in the lobby, always the lobby, at 9:15. Forty-five minutes ago. Lucas was always very punctual, so she wasn't sure whether she should be worried or annoyed.

Exasperated she gave up and took the elevator to his room. She knocked loudly on the door and waited while she heard some rustling around inside. A few seconds later a shirtless Lucas poked his head out of the dark room.

"Lindsey?" his eyes squinted shut trying to block out the light. "I thought we were meeting downstairs."

"Yeah," he eyes widened in sarcasm, "Forty-five minutes ago. Why aren't you dressed?"

"Uh-" he looked behind him. "Just give me two minutes."

"Lucas don't-" the door shut in her face. Irritated, she backed up until her back hit the wall behind her. She'd decided to wait, when not thirty seconds later the door opened again and a scantily clad brunette sauntered out of the room.

Lindsey's mouth was still hanging open when Lucas walked out about a minute later.

"Linds? You ready?" he asked casually. So casually that it led her to believe that he'd done this kind of thing often; the thought made her sick.

"Who was that?" she demanded. She was met with only a wide eyed stare. "Lucas, _who was_ that?"

"I met her last night at the bar."

"Do you even _know_ her name?"

"Not really," he shook his head as he pressed the down arrow for the elevator. "Look. This is why we meet in the lobby. What I do in my personal life is none of your business."

His words pierced her like an arrow. She felt the tightness in her throat and drew a deep breath. That's when she smelled it. "Have you been drinking?"

He didn't look at her.

"Jesus, Lucas, it's barely 10 o'clock in the morning."

He speared a sideways glance in her direction before clinching his jaw and walking into the elevator.

"You're personal life may be none of my business, but how it reflects on this company most certainly is," she spoke harshly to his profile as he stared straight ahead at the metal doors. "What if someone saw you? What if pictures turn up of you running around Chicago with all these women. How old was she?" she suddenly demanded.

"Twenty-two," he spoke smoothly and stepped off the lift. His long strides took him quickly through the lobby leaving Lindsey to practically run to keep up with him.

"So you think to ask her age, just not her name," she bit out.

"Well, like I said, her name wasn't important. Her age, on the other hand, very important." He held the door to the cab open for her as she climbed in.

The rest of the day left Lindsey blown away at the normalness of it all. He was the same old Lucas through the book signing, through the ironing out of their itinerary for the following morning. He'd even agreed to have dinner with her- and he very rarely ever did that, and then they went their separate ways at the end of the night. She went to her room and she presumed that he went to his. She refused to believe that he went to the bar _every_ night. Or that he woke up with a different woman _every_ morning. That she would desperately like to be one of those women. Or that this had remotely anything to do with a certain curly blond who she was coming to hate a little more everyday.

* * *

At 9:15 Friday she Peyton was sitting in the passenger side of Julian's silver Porsche. She hadn't really taken him as the flashy car type of guy and she told him so.

"Oh really? Well what kind of guy did you think I was?"

She scrunched up her nose innocently as she said, "The bus, kind of guy?" The stunned look on his face told her that he was obviously offended. "I'm sorry I just… I've never even seen you in a car. And you're always carrying that messenger bag and you're just a little unkemmpt… and I don't know. "

"Peyton, I'm a movie producer. In L.A. the flashy sports car's pretty much a job requirement." He informed.

"I'm sorry. You just don't seem like the flashy type."

"Well, then, I'll take that as a compliment." His hand dropped from the gear shift to squeeze her knee as he flashed her a grin. When he turned back to face the rode his hand didn't move. She decided she liked it there. A lot.

Two and a half hours later, after listening to Inner Surge, a band that he, admittedly, thought the world could have lived without, Peyton left him to speak with the band members. He found Peyton to be an especially intriguing personality. Not only had she unwittingly stolen his heart, but she filled his mind as well. And he was enthralled as he watched the artistic quality quietly but firmly take over the woman. Her face became a professional mask of total concentration when one of the members said something. Her passion was obvious.

He took a long slow drink of his beer as he watched her from the bar. She had pulled her curly blond hair back at the sides and her eyes were enhanced with a smudge of dark shadow, making them seem twice as large. She wore a professional black skirt that was tight through the hips and legs but long enough to be modest for a business occasion, stopping a couple of inches above the knee. Her satin top fit her like a glove with short slightly puffed sleeves and a high neck. _What color is that_? He mentally asked himself. Plum? _Fuck_, he was starting to sound like a girl. A column of small satin covered buttons marched down the back of the blouse. Julian couldn't imagine how she'd gotten herself into it, and couldn't imagine how he'd ever get her out of it. It was a chastity belt of sorts, he decided. A would be lover's nightmare.

Later, when they were in the car, parked in front of their complex, she turned to him, grinning, "Thank you Julian, for going with me. It was nice not to have to be there alone."

He shook his head in wonderment. She just didn't get it. "You're good at what you do Peyton. I can't remember ever seeing anything so beautiful."

She felt her cheeks heat. She was used to receiving compliments, although she'd never been too good at taking them, but she wasn't used to having them whispered to her in the dark intimacy of a Porsche. The words were as much of a caress as the touch of his hand. They flowed over her nerves still strung tight from her meeting and sent ripples of excitement coursing along her spine. She knew exactly what she was feeling. She'd experienced it many times before a big meeting. Stage fright, she thought. He was going to kiss her, and she was scared to death. It was great- the anticipation. She sat perfectly still, barely breathing, feeling deliciously intoxicated with the moment.

His fingertips traced a feather-light line from her temple to the curve of her chin, and slipped along the nape of her neck. Her satin top felt cool and slick under his hand, the woman beneath warm and pliant. She shifted toward him, and he thought the sound of her skirt rustling in the dark car was intensely erotic. A passionate woman all wrapped up in a chaste package. Fire and ice. He'd recognized the combination tonight during the concert and afterward during her meeting, where she held her audience with her presence as much as they had held hers with their music.

She curled into the circle of his arms, and tilted her face to him,him; she felt his hands tighten at the small of her back. His mouth moved across hers with gentle urgency. If she'd known him longer, she could have admitted to the love that was so obvious in his kiss. One of his hands traveled to her hair, tipping her head back as his tongue pressed against her lips. She opened her mouth to him and moaned when his tongue brushed gently, undemanding, against hers. It had been far too long since she'd felt this desired.

He pulled back only moments later and smiled into her confused eyes. "We should probably get you in now," he said to Peyton as his thumb and forefinger rolled a button between them. "I'd never get past those buttons on the back of your top anyway."

She smiled, "What makes you think we're at the buttons stage yet?"

"Oh, we're not- or, you're not," he grinned shamelessly, "I was just _thinking_ about being at the buttons stage."

"Uh-huh."

"It must take you hours to get out of this thing."

"More like seconds," she grinned, "The buttons don't open. They're just for appearance. There's a zipper underneath. Pretty clever, huh?" she whispered as her eyes teased him. And he wondered how she did that, used nothing but those wide green orbs to make him want her even more?

Peyton acknowledged his appreciation of her easy-to-get-out-of ensemble with a grim smile. Like Brooke said- the man hand plans. The fact that she found those plans appealing was a little frightening. She locked eyes briefly with him once more in a mutual, silent admission of attraction, before opening the door and walking toward the front entrance of their complex.

Julian walked her to her door and nearly ran her over when she abruptly stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked to the back of her head.

She turned slowly to him, a crooked grin on her face as she pointed to the door knob.

"What's that?" he asked of the fluffy black scrunchy around the door knob.

"It's…code," she answered cryptically. "For…" how did she put this? "Well let's just say it means that Brooke has _company_ tonight."

"Oh," he caught on as a smirk quickly spread across his face. "Did she tell you she was having _company_ tonight?"

"No, but that's Brooke- she doesn't always plan these things." He grinned up at him, "Apparently the two of you are more alike than you even know."

"Hey," he defended. "I haven't…_entertained_ anyone since I met you."

"Yeah?" she cocked an eyebrow, "and why's that?"

His face froze as it was while he tried to form an acceptable answer. _Because they just weren't doing it for _me, seemed a little crude. _Because I only wanted you,_ seemed a little forward. But then again, he was a pretty forward kind of guy. He took a deep breath, plastered a grin on his face and said, "I just wasn't interested."

"In sex?" she questioned dubiously.

"No. Not sex. Just not….those women."

"And why's that?" her head tilted slightly to the side.

"You've had most of my attention lately," he shrugged. "I guess I just haven't had time."

"For sex?" she questioned again, eyebrows sky high.

"No, not for sex, just not for… meaningless sex. Maybe I'm looking for something more."

"_Maybe_? Or you are?"

He smirked. She was fishing, even if she didn't know it. "So what will you do tonight?" he changed the subject.

"I don't know. A friend of mine goes to UCLA- Skillz. I'll probably call him and go over there," she explained, slightly distracted as she scrolled through her contacts list on her phone, highlighted his name and pressed Send.

"Skillz? Do I even want to know how he got that name?"

"Probably not- he's not answering," she'd said it all in one breath, and so quickly that it took him a minute to catch up.

"Oh, well, why don't you come in," he ushered her over to his apartment. "You can hang out here."

"Ok," she nodded. Truthfully she'd rather be here with him than almost anywhere else.

Brooke smirked from behind the closed door when she heard the voices disappear into the apartment across the hall. _Payback's a bitch, P. Sawyer_, she thought as she Sitting sat back down on the couch. sShe tucked her feet underneath her and resumed the movie she'd started an hour before. So she wasn't busy, but she refused to feel badly about misleading her friend. Peyton always had needed a little push, and after the little stunt Lucas had pulled at the book signing last week, and the one Peyton had pulled two days ago, Brooke was more than happy to give it to her.

Julian had decided that he needed to find a way to keep her in his apartment before she'd even stepped over the threshold. He didn't need her spending the evening with someone named _Skillz_.

"I'm going to go change," he motioned to a door down the hallway before he left her alone. A few minutes later Julian walked out of his bedroom to find Peyton sitting in his kitchen with lettuce, roast beef, mustard, tomatoes, and provolone cheese from his refrigerator lined up on the counter. He took out two rolls from a bakery bag and sliced them in half. "Make yourself at home," he teased as he took the knife from her when she froze and finished slicing the tomatoe.

"Sorry, I was just-"

"Hey," he placed a hand on her arm. "It's fine. I was just messing with you. I kinda like you moving around like you own the place."

He was still teasing her, she could tell by the glimmer in his eye and by the way his mouth pulled up slightly at the corner.

"So, you're friends not answering his phone, huh?"

"Nope. Which is why I'm sleeping with you. You don't mind do you?"

He almost dropped his sandwich. "Sleeping with me?" _Wonderful response. _

"I didn't mean _with_ you. I meant here. In your guest room, or on your couch."

"Sure. I knew that was what you meant."

Peyton grinned at him.

He grinned back. "You sort of caught me by surprise."

"Well we could let Brooke think we're sleeping together, then she won't be insulted when I don't bitch her out about leaving me stranded out of my own apartment." She smiled.

Her suggestion fueled the fantasies he'd started weeks before, and he thought about the zipper running the length of her shirt and how easy it would be to slide that zipper down. Oddly enough, tonight it evoke old fashioned family images: A husband lovingly helping his wife to dress while children waited to go on an outing; Or a husband breathlessly easing the top from his wife's shoulders, letting it fall of its own weight, rustling as it dropped to the floor in a crumpled pool of dark purple material. The fantasy was so powerful it almost made him dizzy. He could hear the zipper move along its tracks, see the look of expectation on her face. Feel his heart pounding in his chest.

The latter was no figment of his imagination. The prospect of Peyton sleeping under his roof had his pulse racing. He knew it was nonsense. Kid stuff to have these romantic notions. She wasn't going to come creeping into his bed in the middle of the night. Not that he would stop her if she did. Nevertheless, the need was there, humming below the surface, an itch that wouldn't go away.

She pulled the clips from her hair leaving it tousled and she was still completely covered from neck to mid-thigh, and Julian couldn't for the life of him understand why that seemed so seductive. Under the purple satin there was the barest outline of her bra: an imprint of lace against soft ivory breast. He was sure the memory of that vision would have him thrashing sleeplessly in his bed all night.

He raised his eyes to hers, and knew by the amused smile she wore, that he'd broadcast his thoughts as surely as if he'd spoken them out loud. There'd been plenty of times in his life when he'd had to hide his emotions, and there were even more of those times when he'd fabricated emotions he didn't feel. This wasn't one of them. Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have controlled or disguised the feelings he had for Peyton. He flashed her a smile that was 10 percent embarrassment and 90 percent warning.

"Good idea. We wouldn't want Brooke to get insulted," he said.

Peyton swallowed thickly, she wasn't sure of his exact thoughts, but his eyes were smoldering. He took her breath away, something that hadn't happened in far too long. And the smile he wore was alarmingly obvious. "Now that I think about it, I might be safer somewhere else…"

Julian tipped back in his chair, good-natured amusement replacing deeper emotions. "You could be right, but it'll be more fun if you stay here."

He led her to the second bedroom of his apartment which had been turned into a type of screening room. Shelves lined the room full of movies, VHS and DVD, the way that her shelves held her records. Another shelf held books and comics of various age and size; some with post-its stuck to the cover saying "Prospect". It was a comfortably masculine room, Peyton thought, slouching into the luxurious oxblood leather couch. She had changed into a pair of borrowed flannel pants and a white undershirt. Following Julian's lead, she propped her feet onto the coffee table.

They sat side by side with a popcorn bowl between them, their eyes glued to the TV, their minds finely tuned to each other's breathing patterns. It was not a new feeling for Peyton, but it was new to be feeling it with someone other than Lucas.

She wasn't sure what she had for Julian. She couldn't possibly be in love with him. The feeling she had for Julian was more like locking wire carts at the supermarket. Some humor, some annoyance, and an inability to separate the damn things.

The truth was, she didn't want to unlock her cart from Julian's just yet. She felt drawn to him. But more important, under the restless energy of sexual attraction was security, comfort, and satisfaction- things she had been missing. How she could derive those stable emotions from some hot-shot, arrogant, womanizing movie producer she couldn't begin to guess.

From the corner of her eye she watched the rise and fall of his chest, studied the set of his mouth, and happily concluded that he was going through similar agonies. He wanted to touch her just as much as she wanted him to. She was almost sure of it. And she didn't mind acting on assumptions, "Julian?"

"Hmmm?"

"Are you going to kiss me?" she asked as she stared straight ahead.

He turned and grinned at her. "I didn't want to push my luck. I was afraid you might go home."

"Egh, you're kinda stuck with me," she rationalized for him.

"I knew that. I just wasn't sure if you did."He said as he slid his arm across the back of the couch around her shoulders and pulled her closer. She turned on her hip and snuggled into him, her breasts firmly pressed against the wall of his chest, and splayed her hand at the base of his ribs. He couldn't remember a woman ever seeming so right in his arms. He had been wanting to hold her since he'd first seen her in the awful black coat. He nuzzled the curls at her temple and kissed her just above her ear. When she lifted her face toward him he felt the air burning in his lungs. Her lips were parted in expectation, her eyes were trusting, albeit a bit mischievous, and a pink flush had spread across her cheeks. He had a strong urge to tell her that he loved her, but he shook off the thought. It wasn't possible. He didn't fall in love. Infatuation, yes. Lust, most definitely. But not love. Never. Right?

* * *

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think in a review!

A big thank you to bendecida82 for looking over this for me!


	6. Do You Wish It Was Me

A/N: I know it's been a long time since I've updated, but life got in the way. This is all just filler, it wasn't planned but I needed to put something on paper before I lost all motivation. Plus I only got 8 reviews for the last chapter which sucks. And for some reason it wouldn't let me insert page breaks so you get X's

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"Hey," she greeted as she walked through his front door and sashayed into the kitchen. "Do you have any coffee? I'm out."

"Umm, yeah," Julian replied, slightly frazzled by her unexpected, yet welcome, intrusion. He folded the paper he had been reading and set it on the end table next to the couch as he got up to follow her into his kitchen. "Good morning," he whispered as he placed a kiss above her ear from behind her.

"Mmm, morning'," she acknowledged without turning around.

"What are you doing up so early?" he rubbed his hands from her shoulders to her elbows and back as his nose inhaled the scent of her shampoo.

"I have a 9am meeting, I don't want to be late," she said as she turned around. He nodded.

"Well you certainly look nice," he noted as he took in the snug fit of her dark green skirt and her ivory silk top. "I'm sure you'll get whatever you're after."

He was rewarded with a small smile before she turned around to open another cupboard. "Seriously? Where _is_ your coffee?"

He laughed and placed a hand to the small of her back as he guided her to a stool at the island bar. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Of course I've had breakfast; it's almost 6:30."

With a disbelieving look he asked, "What did you have?"

Peyton looked at him blank-faced. _Caught like a rat in a trap, _she thought. She made a pretense of fussing with the top button on her blouse, consequently drawing his attention to the cleavage it sat directly below, and mumbled.

He cleared his throat before he asked, "What was that?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I said I had a cookie."

"That's it?" he scoffed.

"It was oatmeal. Oatmeal is good for you. Everybody eats oatmeal in the morning." It had been oatmeal with double stuff icing and chocolate chips. But there was no need to go into unnecessary details.

"That's a terrible breakfast. You need juice and milk and a good whole grain cereal. You're too thin, Peyton." She was; although he certainly wasn't complaining, but she'd lost some weight in the past few months.

"Thanks, _Mom_," she scowled.

He sliced an orange and fed it to the juicer. A couple of minutes later he handed her a glass of freshly squeezed juice. "It's no good for you, you know, not eating. Lowers your immune system; do you take vitamin C?"

Peyton ignored the question and opened another cupboard, "I don't have much time…"

Julian closed the cupboard and placed a mug in her hand. "Here's your mug, but you get coffee only if you promise to sit down and eat breakfast with me."

"Will breakfast take long?" she asked as she glanced at the watch sitting studiously at her wrist.

"You ever consider yoga?" he asked amused with her irritation. "Relaxation exercises? You're always so uptight."

"You ever consider a broken nose because you deprived a blond of her morning coffee?"

He poured her coffee and pointed to a chair. "Sit!"

"Just for a minute," she muttered. Honestly, she kind of liked being fussed over.

"Seven minutes. Five minutes for me to make the oatmeal and two minutes for you to eat it."

"Honest-to-God oatmeal? That congealed gluey stuff with lumps in it?" she asked. Her pretty face contorted in disgust.

Julian slid a bowl of oatmeal into the microwave with a smirk. "Better watch your step, or I'll make you eat an egg too."

"You're too good to me," she muttered over the rim of her cup.

"I know," he smirked. "You're lucky to be dating to a guy like me. I'm a real catch. I'm dependable, I make breakfast, and I'm good looking." He winked.

When the timer on the microwave went off he pulled the two bowls out and set Peyton's down in front of her with a spoon. He took great amusement in watching her stir the gooey mass before he sat down across from her with his own bowl.

"Some people prefer it with cream and sugar," he offered, taking pity on her.

"Yeah?" she asked hopeful and spooned both into the bowl before she put any into her mouth.

"So?" Julian asked with a raised brow.

Peyton swirled it around her mouth her few times before swallowing. "It's ok. Better than I thought it would be."

"See? Not so bad, huh."

"I guess," she conceded. "I've never really paid that much attention to eating… or cooking. I just eat what I want when I want. I guess I've pretty much always taken my appetite for granted."

"Not me," Julian said with a shake of his head. "I'm really into appetites. Some more than others, of course."

Peyton cut her eyes to him. "Of course."

He got up and grabbed some jam out of the fridge before he sat down again and plastered two pieces of toast with the red jelly before broaching a topic he'd been wanting to bring up for several months, ever since Brooke had moved to New York and divided her time between there and LA for two week intervals, "You ever get lonely over there in that empty house?"

"It's not empty. Brooke lives there too."

"She lives there half the time, and when she's in LA she's never home."

Peyton shrugged and his frustration knew no bounds at her indifference. "I should go. Don't want to be late." She said as she stood from her seat.

"Riiiight," he drawled out. "There's no reason to duck the issue, Peyton," his voice had softened as he looked into her eyes.

"I'm not ducking the issue….. what issue?"

He smiled that smile and she just about melted. "The one where I ask you to move in with me."

Her eyes grew wide as she slowly slid back onto the stool, "Is that….is that what you're doing?"

He looked at her intently, "Do you ever think of getting married?" he asked abruptly. "Not to me necessarily, but in general."

"No," she whispered. Liar! Just a few weeks ago she'd written 'Peyton Scott' in the dust on her bureau. "Almost never," she amended. "How about you? Would you like to get married?" she asked as she turned her attention back to the brown substance still molded to the bottom of her bowl.

Julian chewed his bread while he thought about it. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you."

Peyton sat with her spoon poised in mid air. "When I said would you like to get married, I meant it as a question, not as a proposal."

"Sounded like a proposal to me. And the answer is yes."

"Sure is refreshing to find a man with a sense of humor," she chuckled nervously.

There was just the slightest hint of laughter deep in his eyes. "I'm serious. And you'd better watch your step, or I'll sue you for breach of promise."

She knew he was kidding. At least she was practically positive he was kidding. Still, she felt uncomfortable. "I should go," she said again as she gave up on the oatmeal and stood.

He stood too and walked around the island to place himself in front of her; one hand perched on either side of her, trapping her between his arms. Her heels brought their eyes almost level to the others and he stole a quick glance to see how high they were- four inches he estimated. "I'm serious, Peyton," he whispered huskily as he moved his eyes back to hers. "Move in with me."

"Julian," she started to shake her head.

"Why not?" he asked desperately as he grabbed her hands with his.

"I don't understand where this is coming from," she pulled her hands from his. "Don't you think it's a little sudden?"

"Sudden?" he struggled to stay calm. "We've been together for over a year. I don't think it's unreasonable for me to want some kind of commitment from you."

"I am committed to you," she defended.

"I know you're committed to _me._ I want to know that you're committed to _us._"

"What's the difference?"

"There's a huge difference!" he exclaimed. "Is this about him?"

"What?"

"Is it?"

"Is it about _who_?" she asked bewildered.

Her brow creased in confusion as he marched into the living room. Realization dawned on her as he picked up her purse and pulled a tattered copy of a well memorized book out of its depths.

He held it up to her.

"Julian, come on," she requested with a sigh. "That doesn't mean anything. It's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal, come on you buy copies of this thing every time you see it. You carry one around in your purse half the time. You think it's lost on me that it was written by your ex-boyfriend?"

"So it's important to me. Do you think it's lost on _me_ that you've never bothered to read it? God, you're producing the TV series, don't you think you should at least read the manual that it's based off of?" She paused before taking a shaky breath, "Aren't you curious at all?"

"Yeah. I'm curious. I'm curious to if there will ever come a day when I'm not sharing you with _Lucas Scott_?"

She didn't know what to say. Her forehead creased and her mouth opened and shut a few times. "You know what," she said as she walked toward him, taking the book out of his hand and picking up her purse where he'd dropped it back onto the table, "I'm not doing this right now. I have a career changing meeting today. I'm not doing _this_." She let the door slam shut behind her.

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"Lucas!" Lindsey called out as she walked into the old garage. "Lucas are you in here?" she called out again as she skirted around a lift.

"Back here," she heard come from somewhere in the middle of the large room.

She kept her pace slow, cautiously maneuvering around equipment and tools, even as she saw his long legs bent at the knee poking out from under the front of that old Mustang.

"You're still working on this?" she asked when she had gotten close enough for him to hear her.

"No," he sighed deeply as he rolled out from under the car. "No still. Again."

Her eyebrows arched, "I can't believe you're still driving this dump," she said as she circled the car.

"Hey, this is not a dump. I have a lot of good memories in this car." He defended.

"There's a huge dent in the driver's side door," she pointed out amused.

"There's one on the passenger side too," came a voice from the entrance of the building.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Hales, not encouraging her." Lucas said without turning around.

"I am on your side, but you could seriously use an upgrade. I mean look at this thing." She said as she pointed to the brown/red metal. "The paints chipping, it's got dents in _both_ doors, the radiator leaks-"

"It does not. I fixed that last week."

"Yeah?" she smirked, "Well what is this week?"

He frowned, "The timing belt."

Haley laughed, "That's my point Lucas it's always something."

"OK, I get it. Is there a reason the two of you are here or did you just come by to degrade my motor vehicle choice?"

"Actually," Lindsey spoke up, "I'm here for a reason." She pulled out large folder out of the brief case he hadn't noticed she was carrying. "I need you to read over these and sign them before you go to New York."

"What is it?" he asked as he wiped the grease off of his hands before taking the large stack of pages and leafing through them.

"The season one script for the show they've turned your book into- _One Tree Hill_" Lindsey explained.

"Original," he muttered, suddenly losing interest altogether. He flipped to the last page of the stack and grabbed the pen that had been stuck behind his ear and signed his name. _Lucas E. Scott_.

"Lucas, don't you think you should read over that before you sign it?" Haley questioned.

"Nope," he replied as he handed them back to Lindsey. "They didn't ask my permission before they sold the rights to a producer, why does it matter if I agree with how it's been written?"

"Wait," Haley paused for a moment before she continued. "If your book is being turned into a television serious how come you aren't the one writing it. And how come I didn't know about it?"

Silence filled the air momentarily before Lindsey took over. "Lucas was asked and offered a large sum to write the screen play, but he turned it down."

"What!?" Haley shrieked. "Why would you do that?"

"That part of my life is over Hales. I just want to forget about it."

"So you'd rather someone else make things up?"

"They're not making things up," he defended, "they're basing the show off of the book."

"And you know this because you've read the script that you've just signed off on?" she challenged.

"Haley," it was a warning.

"I'm serious Lucas, you need to read that."

"I'm serious too; I want to forget about that part of my life. I've moved past it."

"Have you?"

"Yes!" He shouted before answering more subdued. "Yes."

"OK." She conceded, but tension still hung thick in the room.

"So how's the car coming," Lindsey broke in.

"I don't know, why don't you try to start it for me?" Lucas offered.

"Yeah?" she asked a hopeful lilt to her voice.

"Yeah. Why not." He tossed her the keys and walked to the front of the car, popping open the hood as Lindsey slid in behind the wheel.

Not to be left out, Haley slid in next to her in the passenger side. It was surprisingly clean for a bachelor's vehicle. For some reason she had expected to find old take out containers and last weeks' laundry thrown around the back seat. But with the exception of a lone silver chain hanging from the rear view mirror, it was bare. Not just bare, but spotless.

"OK," Lucas' voice brought her out of her musings as he signaled Lindsey to turn the key.

Lindsey did her part dutifully, yet it was futile.

"I said 'OK'," Lucas repeated.

"I know," Lindsey replied. "I did. It didn't do anything."

They heard Lucas groan before he dropped the hood and walked over to the passenger side door. He leaned in against the open window and looked at the girls silently.

"I'm sorry buddy; I know how hard you work on this." Haley sympathized.

"I don't know. Maybe you're right. Maybe I need something new."

"Well this is kind of disgusting." She said as she ran her finger along the dashboard. The dark grey leather had faded severely and there were about a hundred little square spots all over where the leather looked to have been torn off completely.

"Hey," he said, obviously offended again, "that's my favorite part."

"The old leather?"

"No. The dashboard."

"Seriously?" she asked, but his eyebrows rose expectantly as if to tell her he was serious. "What is this even from?" she asked.

He just shrugged. "I'm gunna head out and see if I can grab another part before the shop closes. You girls alright in here?"

"Uh, yeah," Haley answered. "I know how to lock up if we leave before you get back."

"You mean when we leave," Lindsey added.

"Yes," Haley amended, "when we leave."

"OK. I'll see you later."

"Bye," they called in unison as they watched him walk out.

Lindsey got out of the car as soon as the front door closed but Haley hung back momentarily. She jumped, surprised, when the passenger side door swung wide open and Lindsey crawled half in holding a small transparent sheet in front of Haley's face.

"What is that?" she asked.

Lindsey studied her for a second debating whether or not to let her in on this discovery she'd made years before. "Scotch tape," she finally informed.

"Tape?" Haley asked confused.

"MmmHmm." Lindsey nodded.

"What for?"

Lindsey didn't answer. Instead she stuck the small square onto the gray leather and then pulled it away. When it peeled off it left the fabric a slightly lighter shade. She turned back to Haley who still looked confused so she did it again, in the same spot. This time the leather was a little bit lighter than before.

"After you do it so many times, eventually the leather peels away completely," her voice was low, hushed, as she ran her finger over a few of the bare spots on the dash.

"OK." Haley said, though Lindsey could still sense her confusion. "Why would Lucas put tape all over his dashboard?"

Lindsey just looked at her. For someone who was praised for their academic abilities she really could be quite slow. Not wanting to miss her friend's reaction, she reached to her side, and without looking, opened the glove box. She watched as Haley's brows knit together in confusion.

There were three large stacks completely filling the glove box. Haley reached forward and pulled out one of the stacks. They were photographs. Every one of them with a tiny piece of scotch tape folded over the back. Lucas and Peyton standing in front of a lake with a bag of bread hanging out of his hand, a flock of ducks at their feet; Lucas and Peyton eating ice cream on the beach; Peyton standing in front of her locker; Peyton sitting in the Comet with the top down; Peyton; Peyton; Peyton…

"Oh my God," Haley whispered. "Forget the past my ass. How did you know about these?" she asked looking up at Lindsey.

"I didn't really. Well, I didn't know that they were in the glove box at least. I just figured that's where they'd gone," She amended. "When we were in college he always had pictures of her taped to the dashboard. Actually this is the first time I've ever _seen_ this car without pictures of her everywhere. I just kind of assumed that he hadn't gotten rid of them."

Haley continued to look through them wide eyed. Images of a girl that she'd never really known flipped through her hands and images of a boy, now man that she hadn't seen in years. It was the smile that threw her off, she decided. She hadn't seen _that_ smile, that genuine, loving life smile since…since before Peyton moved to LA. She shuffled through a few more photographs before she came to one near the bottom of the first stack of a very young Lucas and Peyton. They were obviously at a birthday party or carnival of sorts, judging by the balloons and clown in the background. They were sitting together on a black and white paint pony, Peyton in front of Lucas with his arms wrapped protectively around her, smiling broadly for the camera.

"God they were adorable," Lindsey fussed, and Haley allowed herself a sad smile.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. She let out a harsh breath before confessing, "He deserves so much better than her."

"You think so?" Lindsey asked.

"Yeah. I do."

"Didn't he break up with her?" Lindsey asked, confused.

"Only after she admitted that she didn't want to be with him."

"She said that?" Lindsey had seen Peyton just a few weeks before the break up, and she had seemed very much in love with Lucas.

Haley nodded, "Well, he asked her move to New York with him and she said no, so that's basically the same thing."

"Oh," Lindsey spoke quietly. "He asked her to move in with him?"

"Yeah," Haley admitted, "Right after her parents died."

"Oh." She hadn't known that. Although, she shouldn't be surprised. In her mind though, it did explain a few things- justified a few more.

"She broke his heart," Haley whispered, staring at the picture of the happy blond haired children.

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"Lucas Scott!" Haley yelled as she walked into the house she shared with Nathan….and apparently Lucas.

"Haley James," he answered as he walked from the kitchen and perched against the door frame; a bottle of water in his hands.

"What are these?" she asked as she thrust a handful of photographs towards his chest.

Lucas took the stack from her outstretched hand, his eyes falling to slits when he realized what they were. And where they were from. "You went through my things?" he accused.

"What's going on?" Nathan asked as he walked downstairs. He'd heard the tone of Haley's voice when she walked in and knew his best friend was in trouble. He'd initially headed down the stairs to try and help Lucas out but from the Look on his face Haley'd be the one needing back up.

"Lucas is hiding pictures of Peyton!"

"You're girlfriend's going through my things!"

They replied at the same time.

Nathan looked from one to the other before turning around and starting back up the stairs.

"Nathan!" Haley exclaimed.

"What?"

"That's it? You just turn around and walk away?"

"What do you want me to do Hales?"

"Find out why he's hiding pictures of Peyton in his car!"

"Because I knew if I hid them in my room you'd nose through them and want to know why I'm hiding pictures of Peyton in my room!" Lucas exclaimed; loudly.

"See," Nathan pointed, "now you know."

She scowled at Nathan as Lucas turned around to his room on the other side of the kitchen. He stopped abruptly and turned back around.

"Where are the rest of them?" Lucas demanded.

Haley held out her hand holding a small brown paper shopping bag that he took instantly, then turned on his heel and walked away. The door shut harshly behind him.

"Please tell me you seriously did not do that?" Nathan demanded, his temper barely in check.

"Do what?" she was just as irritated. She'd expected more out of him.

"Snoop through his car looking for stuff."

"I didn't snoop through anything!" she defended. "Lindsey opened the glove box; I just pulled out what was inside."

"And you think that's ok?"

"No, but I think it's too late now." She paused and took a deep breath, "Nathan," she ran a hand through her hair, "I just….he deserves so much better than her. She broke his-"

"No." Nathan declared adamantly. "He doesn't. OK? He made his bed, now he gets to lie in it. Or fix it. He's not the only one who got hurt. I understand that it's hard for you to believe that, but trust me. He killed her. So don't go defending him." He grabbed his keys off the ring by the door before letting it slam behind him.

Haley huffed before stomping up the stairs to her room with tears in her eyes. And just for good measure, she let her door slam too.

Lucas had heard the doors slam and knew someone had left. He didn't have the heart to care. He'd heard the words that had been said, they hadn't exactly been quiet about it. Nathan was right. It was his fault. And she was hurt too, he knew that, he knew he'd hurt her, though he found it difficult to believe that she'd been as affected. He'd reached out to her nearly a year ago, asking her to come to his book signing and she hadn't shown up. If she'd felt anything near the way he did, she would have moved heaven and earth to be there. He leaned back against the headboard of his bed, that bag of pictures next to him and he pulled them out. It had been a year or so since he'd looked through them. He'd always had a couple taped to the front of his car but it'd been a while since he'd looked at most of them.

The first one he looked at made him smile. It was probably the last one that Haley had seen. _The final straw_, he mused. It was the summer after he and Peyton had met, after the July 4th party, which he'd learned was an annual thing, and before school started- sometime in August. He could still remember the intense heat and the thick humidity, both evident by Peyton's short shorts on her legs and tight ringlets in her hair. She'd been terrified to get on that horse but she'd done it for him. He'd told her he wanted a new picture to put on his mirror in his room and she'd agreed….if he got up there with her. He'd wrapped his arms around her tightly and promised to protect her. She laughed and the picture was shot- that moment frozen in history- forever.

He stuck his hand in the bag and pulled out another picture. He smiled again when he pulled out a print of just her naked feet. Toes painted brightly in a strawberry red. He'd told her once after he'd left for college that one of the things he missed the most was taking long drives with her and how she'd always put her bare feet up on the dashboard as they drove through the winding dirt back country roads of their town. He'd gotten the picture five days later. He flipped it over to look at the back, his smile growing when he noticed the loopy writing was still clearly visible. _To remind you of me __PS._

Picture after picture he pulled out, some bringing tears to his eyes, many making him laugh, reminding him of the girl he used to love. Still loved. Would probably always love. But he realized that it was nice to be able to remember things about her and be happy. That he was able to be happy.

He looked to the stack of papers that Lindsey had made him bring home. To hand deliver to the New York office. He picked it up and began leafing through it. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad he thought as he began to read.

He didn't get far when he realized that the character that most definitely played Peyton was 'Hillarie' and her first scene was a make out with a character that most definitely was _not_ him. After that realization he didn't go any further. He put the stack on top of his suitcase and lay back down on his bed.

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"I'm sorry," she said as she walked up to the brunette figure on the cement court.

"It's not me you need to be apologizing to, Haley." He said as he threw up another shot.

"I know. I already talked to Luke," she said softly. "I just thought you were on his side."

"I'm not on anybody's side Hales," he dropped the ball and put his arms loosely around her waist. "You weren't there. Yeah, she hurt him by saying no, but he could have waited. He should have. That's always been one of Lucas' biggest faults- it's always his way, or no way."

"I know," she whispered. "I just don't like to see him hurt."

"Yeah, well, neither do I, but until he's ready to step up and do something about it, we're just going to have to sit back."

"Sucks that it has to happen in our house," she admitted.

"No it doesn't." He stated and Haley looked up at him curiously. "I mean, it doesn't have to happen in our house."

"We can't kick him out, _Nathan_."

"I'm not saying that we kick him out. But he does own a house just a few blocks away. There is no reason why he can't live there."

"Except that he's renting it out and the family is under a lease," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but that's only good until the end of next year, after that there's no reason he can't move out."

Haley nodded, "Maybe you could not mention that right now. You know, since it's still a good 15 months away." She smiled. He was obviously no more ready to send their struggling friend out on his own than she was.

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It was fifteen agonizing hours later before she walked back into his apartment. He looked up from the TV he wasn't really watching when the door opened. She was still dressed in her work clothes. Her heels accentuated her calves and legs until the dark fabric concealed the rest. Her top gathered a couple of inches above the hemline at her middle, accentuating her thin waist. She'd pulled her thick hair back at the nape of her neck in a bun of some sort; the package coming together to make her look every bit the professional that she was.

He stood to greet her, to say something, to touch her, anything, but she shook her head; her distraught eyes and sad smile signaling him to stay where he was as she crossed the floor to him. Her hands gathered the sides of her skirt where they landed and she bent her left knee and placed it to one side of him, her right to the other, setting herself on his knees.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she lifted her hands to thread through the hairs at the back of his neck, her fingers locking there.

He was afraid to move. His hands lay on the cushion and arm of the couch as he waited for her to make the next move.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she looked into his eyes.

He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ambushed you. We've never really talked about it."

"No," she shook her head, "you're right. It's not unreasonable to think we'd be living together by now. I practically live here half the time anyway."

He smiled, "Well, you are my most frequent visitor." She swatted his chest and he laughed.

"I am committed to you. To _us._" She said quietly. She'd had most of the day to think about it. Lucas was her past; and she was over him. But continually having to think about their past made it impossible to fully forget about them. Him. Lucas. But Julian was here. He wanted her, just the way she was. Now. And she wanted to move on.

"I know," he whispered finally allowing his hands to reach behind her and pull her closer to him.

"You don't share me with him." She assured, running on hand through his hair starting at the top of his head.

"Sometimes, it feels like I do." He admitted.

"Julian, you know why I always have that book with me. Half of my life depends on it. I use it for… for reference." She explained.

"I know," and he did, "but that doesn't mean I like it." He dropped his head to the back of the couch.

"I know." she acknowledged and moved her hands to rub soothingly down his chest and taught abs.

He brought his head back up slowly. "How'd your meeting go?"

"It was good," she said as she shifted her weight back and forth on her legs to keep them from falling asleep. The movement made him close his eyes and she smirked when she noticed the darker shade when they opened.

She leaned forward to kiss him as he asked, "What was it about?"

"A promotion," she moved her lips to his jaw and she felt the pressure of his hands on her hips increase.

"Did you get it?"

She smirked, "Weren't you the one saying I could get anything I wanted dressed like this."

"Well you would certainly get me."

"I've already got you," she whispered seductively.

"That you do," he muttered against her lips.

His eyes bored into hers for a moment, obviously not giving in, she sighed, "Yeah, I got it."

"You don't seem too happy about it," he observed.

She took a deep breath, "It's in New York."

She felt his breathing stop momentarily before he played it off by letting out a low whistle. He was silent for a few moments as she looked at him before he took a deep breath and said, "I think you should take it."

"Yeah?" she asked unconvinced.

"Yeah." He assured her.

"What about us?"

"What about us?" he asked

"Would you come visit me all the way out in New York?"

It soothed his heart to know that she would want him even with a country separating them. Still he took a deep breath and said, "No."

"No?" her face fell as she searched his before she dropped her eyes to her hands that had fallen to her lap.

"No," he repeated. "I wouldn't come visit you in New York." She nodded, "but I would love to _move_ to New York _with_ you."

Her head shot up and the tears that she was trying to hide showed evident in her eyes, "Yeah?"

"Of course I would," he ran a hand through the back of her hair, loosening her bun.

She shook her head in disbelief as she lowered her lips to his.

"So I guess we're moving to New York," he said when she pulled away.

"I guess so," she whispered quietly.

"When do we leave?"

"Not for a few months. There's a training period here and then they'll move me. Us."

"Us." He smiled. "I like when you call us an us."

"Well we are one."

He shrugged. "I know, but I like when you say it."

She hummed as she brought her lips back to his, reclaiming his mouth. This time he maneuvered her beneath him so that her back was on the couch. She had a leg on either side of him, her skirt scrunched up high on her legs, and his lips on the hallow of her throat when she whispered, "Maybe we could start moving me in here before then."

He smiled against her neck. He could certainly get used to hearing those kinds of words.

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A/N: Reviews=motivation. Just sayin'


	7. I Never Told You

Sooo....this isn't the last chapter. Sorry. Maybe the next one will be the last. But the people who reviewed and PM'd me were wanting some LP so I thought I'd add a little LP and then I started writing and it kept getting longer and longer so...anyhow, this isn't the last chapter. Enjoy! Thanks to those who DID review- you're awesome! And I apologize for any and all errors, this is un-beta'd. Oh! And I don't know why chapter 6 didn't have a title. I did title it, but it didn't make it to the post.... so for those of you who asked, your guess is as good as mine. But just a FYI the title of chapter six was 'Do You Wish It Was Me' and this one, in case it doesn't show up, is 'I Never Told You'.

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"Well if you can't cut through that red tape, then I'll find somebody who can," Julian said as he walked into the bedroom, walking passed Peyton as he crossed the door to their walk in closet. "This may come as a surprise to you but you're not the only line producer in town." She was standing directly in front of him when he turned around and she gave him a gentle push backward onto the bed.

A smirk covered her face, her green eyes wide as she climbed over his legs, she mouthed a '_be nice'_ as she took her place, straddling his center.

He took a deep breath when she leaned down and her body pressed against his. "Look Josh," he breathed as her fingers played with his earlobe, "I know you're trying", and his eyes closed, rolling into the back of his head when her fingers feathered through his hair, "just do me a favor and try a little harder. It's all gonna get done."

He closed his phone with a snap, took a deep breath and noticed her grin of accomplishment, "I think it's a bad idea that you moved in with me."

"Why?" she all but purred.

"Because if I get any nicer, my films not going to get to Sundance."

"OH." She nodded dramatically; unsympathetically. "But you'll get me and I am _way_ sexier than Sundance."

He wouldn't argue with that as she leaned down to kiss him, pressing against him in the most delightful ways.

She started to pull away from him and he brought his hands to the back of her neck to hold her lips against his as he followed her up. She sat back on his legs and looked at him. "Besides, I only live with you part time," she said cheekily.

He took a deep breath, "I love you." He said. They'd been together for over a year, she'd been living with him for a couple of months, but this was the first time he'd made this declaration to her, verbally, and he held his breath as he waited for her response.

"I love you too," she whispered and pressed her lips back to his, pushing him back down against the mattress. When he was once again on his back, she pulled back suddenly, "Don't forget I'm staying at Brooke's this weekend." She felt she needed to remind him.

He groaned. "Why?" he pouted causing her to laugh.

"Because," she drew out, eyes wide, "she's going back to New York on Monday."

"And you're going up there next weekend," he reminded her. "Why can't you just hang out with Brooke and sleep here? It's just across the hall."

She laughed again, "Exactly, it's just across the hall. You know, if I remember correctly I was supposed to have spent the last week and a half over there but SOMEONE talked me into helping him pack," she said as she climbed off of him. "And on that note, you're going with me to New York, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

He sat up and maneuvered his body to rest against the head board, "Yes but I'm only staying for Brooke's opening and then I have to come back."

"_For two weeks,_" she reminded him; not an ounce of sympathy in her voice.

"That's still two weeks without you," he stood up and placed his hands on her hips to still her and pulled her too him. "I've kinda gotten used to you being around," he stated.

"Yeah?"

He nodded.

"Well…," she drew out, "that's good," she gripped the collar of his shirt in both hands, "because in three weeks, we'll be living together all the time."

"You promise?" he whispered.

She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him and he grinned before pressing his lips softly to hers. When they parted she used one hand to pat his chest two times and turned out of his embrace.

She was always doing that, he noted. He'd make a comment or they would be sharing a tender moment and she'd do something small that would seem to play down the seriousness of it. It wasn't a big deal, really, but it annoyed him, and she knew it. He shook his head to make a comment on it but by that time she'd already made her way out of the room.

He thought back to his declaration. He had hoped that when he said it that she wouldn't get mad. That she wouldn't make a scene. He'd hoped she'd say it back; and she had. Immediately, without thought, like she had already known it and was just waiting on the admission. Like a preprogrammed response. _Fuck,_ he thought, _whatever._ He'd told her how he felt and she reciprocated. He'd gotten what he wanted. Only, he realized now that he _had_ hoped for something more…emotional. Maybe tears, or the catching of her breath. Something to indicate to him that she knew how big of a deal this was. Some kind of indication that it was as big of a deal to her. Maybe she didn't feel as much for him as he did for her. Maybe she was just biding her time until someone better came along. Maybe…maybe he needed to stop thinking like a girl. He said he loved her; she said it back.

End of argument.

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Brooke's heels tapped out a steady beat as she made her way across the marble tile of her apartment lobby to the elevators. She'd spent the past two weeks finalizing everything she needed to transfer from her office in LA to her new offices in New York. The paperwork and phone calls had started early in the mornings and kept her up late into the nights. She couldn't think of a better way to bid au revoir to this city than by spending the weekend with her best friend.

"Hey," Brooke's attention was drawn just as the elevator doors opened by that familiar deep voice.

"Hey," she drawled. "I thought you were having a guy's night?" she asked, look at him out of the corner of her eye as she searched through her purse with one hand for her keys. "Peyton is staying here this weekend." It wasn't a question, and she knew he wouldn't take it as one. Peyton had blown her off for the past two weeks, but Brooke Davis had every intention of having the undivided attention of her best friend for her last weekend in LA.

"Oh I am. Peyton made sure I didn't forget," he smirked. "I was actually just heading out. Peyton's already in old sweats waiting on you."

"Well, then I won't keep her waiting," Brooke said with a smile.

Julian laughed. "Have fun. Tell Peyton I said good night."

"Uh-huh," she muttered as she carefully balanced a grocery bag on her hip and she lifted her key to the lock to open the door. That bag contained some of the essentials she and Peyton would need to start their Girls' Weekend off right. Two tubs of Ben and Jerry's', four bottles of wine and half a dozen chick flicks should start things off nicely.

Walking through the door the first thing she noticed was the darkness. Had it not been for the TV glowing brightly on the wall she would have stepped into a pitch black room. Nothing unusual except she could see the glow of blond hair leaning against the couch.

The second thing she noticed, was the first thing she heard. Lucas Scott. She froze mid-step and turned toward the TV. There he was, practically life-sized on her 50" plasma. He looked good. She'd seen him several times during her trips to New York where they'd meet up for coffee or dinner, but Peyton wasn't privy to that information. She figured the less the blond heard of him, the better off she was. Speaking of Peyton, Brooke shook her head sadly, she hadn't even noticed she'd walked in.

She walked her purchases into the kitchen and then made her way to her bedroom to change. She pulled on some comfy pajamas before walking back out into the living room. She flipped on a light and the TV froze.

Peyton looked around before turning her head to look behind her, "Brooke? When'd you get here?"

Brooke gave her a sad smile, "Just a few minutes ago," she informed. "Sooo," she drew out, "This the E! Special on the talented and elusive author Lucas Scott?" She asked cheekily.

"Yeah. How'd you know?" she asked curiously.

Brooke shrugged as the contemplated full disclosure for a moment. "Lucas mentioned it," she admitted; all senses alert to how the news would be received.

"You…you talked to Lucas?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Brooked replied easily, "I see him every now and again. In New York."

"Oh," Peyton took a moment to process that information. "So he's still living there, then? In New York?"

"No. He's back in Tree Hill. But he's in the city often enough. For business."

"Oh."

Brooke rounded the corner of the couch and mentally shook her head as she took in what the blond was wearing. Flannel pants and a sweatshirt- just like Julian had said. She supposed to most it would look as if Peyton was sitting back ready to relax for the evening.

Brooke wasn't most.

And the over sized sweater hanging off of the thin blonde's frame wasn't just any 'old sweats'.

Brooke had seen it before. _Many_ times before.

When they were in high school, there was a gray hoodie with 'Keith Scott's Body Shop' imprinted across the back that another blond used to wear; an acutely _male _blond. Lucas had pretty much lived in that top during the few weekends that he'd come to Tree Hill to visit. He'd forgotten it one weekend- intentionally or otherwise- and Peyton had never let him have it back. Since then, however, Brooke had been witness to the hoodie being thrown away more times than she could count and she would never question how it always seemed to find its way back to the skinny blonde's frame.

That's the one she's got it on tonight.

She sighed as she sat down next to her pale friend.

"So…." She drew out again, "I know I had it TiVo'ed, but what are you doing what this?"

She saw one of Peyton's shoulders lift.

Brooke nodded, not that Peyton could see. Her eyes were staring intently on the commercial that she had muted on the TV before them. "What's this?" Brooke asked, lighting pulling at the fabric of Peyton's sleeve.

Again, one of Peyton's shoulders lifted, but she didn't say anything for a few moments, finally turning to Brooke to say, "It keeps me warm." The look Brooke gave her let her know that she was well aware that it did much more than that. "It just…it makes me feel close," she admitted.

Brooke nodded quietly before she questioned, "Close to what?" Without giving Peyton time to respond before she elaborated, "Close to…saying goodbye? Close to…getting on with your life? Maybe… close to letting yourself fall in love again?" She arched a brow, "Or close to _Lucas_?"

The brunette watched as a small sad smile tugged at one corner of her friends face before she turned around to face her. "He told me he loved me," she whispered.

"He does, sweetie, he was just hur-," she paused for a moment, "Who?"

"Julian," Peyton replied.

Brooke's mouth froze in an 'o' for a moment. "What did _you_ say?"

"I told him I loved him too," she whispered.

Both brows arched this time, "and do you?"

There was a moment of silence before Peyton spoke again. "Yeah. I do. I mean….," she took a breath, "I do. I don't want him to get hurt." She blinked a few times trying to keep the tears at bay before she turned to look at Brooke. She sniffed and wiped a hand across her eyes, "I just…," her voice caught, "I just keep telling myself that I should be further than this. You know? That…that I should be better."

"Aw, P. Sawyer," Brooke rasped as she scooted over and put an arm around her best friend.

"I should be better by now… but I'm _really_ not. I'm just…stuck. And I keep looking back on everything that we had and all the promises that he made. And…what do I do with that?" she questioned her brokenly.

"Oh, honey," she smoothed a hand over the back of Peyton's head. "I don't know."

"Do you think he meant it?" she whispered.

Although she wasn't sure whom Peyton was referring to, she was quite certain that her answer of, "I'm sure he did," applied to either one.

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Lucas stretched his arm out in front of him to brace himself against the cool tile of the wall as the hot water belted over his taut muscles. He rakes a hand over his head, slicking back his hair. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. In….out….in….out… The interview had left him tense. The questions they had asked making him think about far too many things that he had been trying desperately to avoid.

"_We're pleased to have Lucas Scott, bestselling author of 'An Unkindness of Ravens' here with us today," the host had said. _

"_Oh, well, it's a pleasure to be here," he'd replied amidst thunderous applause from a room that seemed to be amusingly overflowing with women._

"_I have to say Lucas, I've read your book," more thunderous applause and screaming, "as have most of our audience," she added with a smile, "and I have to say, I was very taken with your story. They way you portrayed your characters was so touching… so lifelike. Tell me how did you come up with them? What was the motivation behind this book?"_

"_Oh…well… um, I guess just my life. The characters in the book, aren't characters, they're real people. People who played a major role in my life. The things that I've learned, who I've become, who I am, are all because of them."_

_The host looked at him in astonishment, "You mean these characters are _real_?" _

_He nodded and there was more screams and applause._

"_I'm going to have to ask what everyone is dying to know," she paused for effect, "where are they now?"_

_He grinned, he should have known that was coming, "Uh, well, Nathan and Haley are still living in my hometown-"_

"_Which would be?" she interrupted with a devious look in her eye._

_He grinned. He knew better than to answer that. He was well aware that most of the audience probably knew that he lived there as well. "Not here," he said with a chuckle. "My dad now lives in South Carolina and Brooke is currently making her mark on the fashion industry; dividing her time between the East and West Coast."_

"_Yes," she agreed with him, "Clothes Over Bros, they have a store opening up here in New York next week, don't they?"_

_Before he could open his mouth she was moving on._

"_And what about Peyton? I think we're all dying to know what happened with her."_

_He froze. What about Peyton? What did he say? That she was still the love of his life? That she was still the one he wanted next to him when all of his dreams came true; the one he wanted next to him when they didn't? The only one he wanted. What did he say? That Peyton was currently living her life on the other side of the country; with another man? Did he tell the world about her success in the music industry that he supposedly knew nothing about? Did he tell the host that he lived in Tree Hill around people who never mentioned her name for fear of his backlash or did he tell her about how he would privately meet with Brooke and beg her for the latest information? He suddenly personally understood the phrase 'deer in the headlights' or 'fish out of water'. He was frozen in place, he couldn't utter a word. Like he couldn't breathe._

_And suddenly, he realized, he _couldn't_ breathe. He opened his mouth to pull in air but no wind past his lips. He placed a hand over his chest and leaned back. He heard the host go to commercial break and felt her hand on his arm. He turned his head toward her and the room started to spin. He was going to be sick. Sick with dread; sick with guilt; sick with remorse. He saw the producer walking toward him and the concerned faces of the members of the audience and he jumped out of his and nearly ran off of the stage into the bathroom._

_When he emerged a couple of minutes later and was ushered back onto the stage, he handed the host a piece of paper. One that Haley had urged him to give them beforehand. He didn't think it would be necessary. _I can handle this_, he'd told her._

_The host opened the paper seconds before the cameras came back on. Now she had the fish out of water look on her face. '_Topics that you cannot touch'_ was written clearly at the top of the paper. 1) Peyton, 2) Lucas and Peyton….She apparently had very little else that she wanted to discuss. She'd asked about future projects (he had none), his muse (he no longer had that either; not that he offered that tidbit of information), and if he had any plans for the upcoming holidays (seeing as how they were more than six months away, he had none). It ended very quickly from there._

He stretched his neck to the left and the right as the water continued to soothe him. He looked to either side of him trying to locate his shampoo. Remembering that he'd left it in his travel bag in the main room of his suite he picked up the complimentary bottle that the resort provided. Popping the top, the scent of coconut and vanilla wafted through his nose and he was instantly transported back to another time.

"_Smells good in here," he said as he walked into the kitchen, finding a flushed Peyton donning a 1950s era apron and a wooden spoon._

"_Mmmm," she hummed, "that's because I'm making your favorite."_

"_Chocolate chip cookies?" he questioned, hopefully._

_She nodded._

"_Since when do you cook?" he asked playfully as he grabbed a hot cookie off of the tray and stuffed it into his mouth. He froze._

"_Since my boyfriend told me he would give just about anything for a homemade chocolate chip cookie," she smiled. "Well?" she waited. _

_He looked around him frantically for somewhere to rid the contents of his mouth, settling on a dish towel. He ran his tongue over the contours of his mouth. "They're a little salty," he said delicately._

"_Salty? But I followed the directions precisely. It was a _pinch_ of salt. I used a _pinch_ of salt," she defended._

"_Show me," he handed her the salt and stood appalled as she poured a handful into his palm. "Whoa, that's more like…a handful." He threw a pinch over his shoulder before tossing the rest into the sink._

"_Well maybe this batch will be better?" she scoped up a wad of cookie dough onto her index finger and held it up to him. He opened his mouth to her, his eyes never leaving hers. She burst out laughing as she smeared the bite he had been awaiting over his mouth, lips and chin._

_Grabbing the bowl of cookie dough off of the counter he husked a low, "oh, you better run," before taking off after her through the kitchen._

_Thirty minutes, two batches of cookie dough, and one upturned table later, they sat together, worn out and smiling, on the kitchen floor._

_Lucas leaned over and sucked a clump of the salty sweet dough off of Peyton's neck, "You know," he said as he sat back, " I take that back. I think these might be the best cookies I've ever had."_

"_Yeah?" she asked amused._

_He nodded as he pulled her to him to kiss her. _

_They sat there for several minutes, making out on her kitchen floor, before Lucas, begrudgingly, pulled back. "We should probably get this cleaned up before it turns to cement."_

"_Party pooper," Peyton replied, her voice still a little breathless, driving him all kinds of crazy._

"_Come on, I'll help." He said as he stood and reached down to pull her up._

"_Help? Oh, no, baby, you '_do'." _She remarked sassily._

_He gave her a blank look._

"_Baby this never would have happened if you hadn't have come in here and insulted my baking," she whispered seductively, grasping the collar of his button up in both of her hands._

"_I'm not cleaning this up by myself," he looked her in the eyes. "Peyton, seriously, it'll take 20 minutes if we both work on it." She blinked slowly, "Peyton," he breathed._

"_I'm going to go take a shower," she whispered again, "I've got cookie dough in my hair." She pecked his mouth, letting her lips linger for a moment before walking slowly, purposefully, out of the kitchen, her hips swaying with the movement, knowing that his eyes were on her the whole time._

_The second she was out of sight Lucas looked around at the mess they had created. He quickly stuck the plug in the sink and turned the water on. Gathering up all of the dishes he sat them in the large basin and added some soap. _They'll need to soak, _he justified. He dipped a cloth into the scalding water, sprayed some Lysol onto the countertops and ran the rag quickly over the counters, stove, and the table that he set to rights._

_He pulled a small cordless vacuum out of the kitchen pantry and quickly cleaned up the floor. He pushed the chairs around the table, switched off the lights, and bounded up the stairs, making it to Peyton's room just as he heard the water turn on._

_He smirked in accomplishment as he quietly pushed open the bathroom door and let himself in. The small room hadn't even fogged over yet. Stripping of his clothes he tip toed to the curtain and pulled it back just enough to step in behind her. _

_She still hadn't noticed him. _

_Reaching forward he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, and yelled, "Gotcha!" all in one swift movement._

_There was a shrill screech and a torrent of curses before he turned her around. She slapped him lightly on the chest and followed with a '_you scared me', _which had, of course, been his intent. His smiling face, proud with accomplishment, wouldn't allow her to stay mad at him though and after a moment she wrapped her arms around his neck, brining their bodies flush together._

_She pecked his lips quickly before thrusting something in his hands. He brought it up to his eyes and smiled. Shampoo. He flipped the lid open and began messaging the ointment into her hair. The coconut-vanilla scent filling his senses and encouraging his libido. _

_He leaned down and kissed her lips, the sensation of their slick bodies and the pressure of the others mouth causing them both to hum in approval. He buried one hand in her foaming mass of wet hair while the shower head rained down on her. His other was wrapped possessively around her waist and he stepped even closer into her, pressing himself tightly against her belly._

_He pulled back and looked at her. His eyes met her absurdly beautiful greens before traveling down to her soft pink lips, deliciously full, and waiting to be plundered. Her neck, long and poised, begged him to mark a trail from jaw to clavicle as he made his way to the valley of her breasts. Breasts perfectly formed and molded for his hands, giving way to a tiny, taut tummy before curving into alluring hips. Her hips gave way to legs that he had yet to find a proper adjective for. Long, sexy legs; shapely calves and delicate ankles._

He jumped when the water suddenly went cold. Irritated to be brought out of his dream, he stayed under the cool spray for a few moments, allowing it to cool his overheated body. When he was comfortable again he switched the water off, wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into the bedroom of his suite.

He checked his phone expecting to see missed called from Haley and was surprised when he not only did not have anything from Haley but a text from Brooke. It simply read, "How ya holding up?"

He glanced at the clock and after quickly doing the math in his head, he knew she'd still be up. He dialed her number and waited for that voice that had become a familiar comfort over the past few years to answer the phone.

"Brooke's phone," he heard the mumbled greeting through his ear piece and his heart stopped again for the second time that day. "Hello?" he heard when his voice refused to work. Had he dialed the wrong number?

"Uh, Peyton?" he asked for lack of a better response. It had been over three years since he'd heard her voice.

Silence.

"Lucas?" Why had she answered Brooke's phone? And why had she not at least looked at the call display?

"Yeah. It's…it's me," he responded.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice still quiet, "So…um… what's up?"

"Not much. Not really. Brooke had sent me a text; I thought it'd be easier to just call her back. I take it she's busy?" _Please let her be busy_, he thought.

"Yeah, she's…she's on the landline in her room." She replied simply.

"Right. So, um…what have you been up to? Is everything thing ok?" He could have sworn that he heard tears in her voice when she'd answered the phone.

"Yeah…yeah…everything's fine."

"You sure?" she could hear the doubt in his voice and she hated that he still knew her well enough to know that.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I just…I saw your interview," she hoped her voice sounded more upbeat than she felt as she tried to refocus the attention off of her.

"Oh. Right. That didn't exactly go-"

"It was great Luke," she said suddenly.

"No," he argued, "It really, really wasn't."

"Yes it was. You were….amazing, Luke," she whispered the last part.

"I…thank you," he whispered sincerely.

More silence.

"Oh," she cleared her throat, "Brooke's off the phone."

"Peyton?" he called, hoping to keep her on the phone. "Peyton?"

"Yeah?"

"I…." _I what?_ "I just…." _What? He just what?_ "I love you, you know that?"

He heard her breath catch and he felt some measure of success. Even when all he heard back was her mumbled response of, "Here's Brooke."

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She walked into the hotel bar with one thing on her mind. She was on a mission. And that mission was sitting on a stool directly in front of the bar.

"What did you say to her?" she accused before she'd fully reached him.

He didn't turn around.

"_Lucas_!" He turned around when he heard the familiar voice.

"I asked you what you said to her."

"Who?" he slurred.

"To _Peyton_," she bit back. "I was supposed to spend my last weekend in LA with my best friend, but after a phone call, _from you_," she pointed out, "she spent that weekend in her room. I'm inclined to think that's your fault."

"What can I say?" he grinned, "I hear I have that effect on women."

She looked at him in bitter astonishment. His drunken arrogance erasing any sympathy she may have initially felt. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "Seriously, Lucas, what is wrong with you?"

He looked at her; his stare empty from the alcohol. She shook her head sadly. She had tried to see things from him point of view, but after three years of listening to him she was fed up with him not _doing_ anything about it. "Why don't you just tell her that you were wrong and that you want her back?"

He stared at her momentarily before forcing a scoff and raising the glass of amber liquid to his lips. He shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't want her back."

"Really?" she questioned skeptically.

"Mmmm, yeah," he answered easily, though his brow was creased in concentration. "Yeah…if I told…_Peyton_…that …that would be…a lie? Right?" He looked at Brooke as if waiting for confirmation-although his voice broke, betraying his words- as if he were trying to convince himself, before turning back to his drink. "Peyton doesn't like….liars," he frowned; his words couldn't seem to keep up with his thoughts.

"Lying?" She asked, hand on hip and eyebrow arched, "You were _lying?_" she answered skeptically; her voice rising. "And were you _lying_ when you told her that you loved her? And that there was no one else that meant as much to you as she did?" He shrugged again, making Brooke all kinds of upset.

"So you were you _lying_ when you told her that she was the one for you? When you talked about the children you wanted to have _with her_ and the life you wanted to build _with Peyton_?" She watched as he blinked taken aback by her outburst, but she made no apology. The bitch was out full force now, and she had no sympathy for him.

"God, Lucas," she sighed as she put a hand to her forehead to try and calm herself down. She looked around momentarily to see if they had drawn any attention. "Why didn't you just swallow your pride for a second and put yourself in her shoes? I mean, you flipped out when Jake wanted to buy her ice cream and she walked in on you essentially living with another woman! Why couldn't you have just told her that you understood how she felt?" Her voice was a whisper now. "Oh, but wait," the sarcastic lilt was back to her voice, "You would have been 'lying'" she made an air quotation with her fingers before brushing past him and out the bar.

He'd barely blinked before he heard the familiar clacking of her heels against the hardwood floor returning to him. He looked over his left shoulder when she approached him again, turning back toward the bar when she was mere centimeters from him.

She leaned in close, her deep voice rasping into his ear. But it was her words that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"You're right," she rasped thickly; slowly. "If you somehow found the balls to show up in California and tell Peyton that you were wrong; that you still love her….that you made a mistake. You would be lying." She paused for effect. "You would be lying right next to her… in the middle of that big king sized bed… in that penthouse apartment… in the heart of LA… _with_ Peyton."

She pulled away from him a little bit and took in his profile. His handsome face had paled and his mouth was slightly open as if he didn't know what to say. "Because whether you want to admit it or not, that's where you belong." This time when she left she didn't come back.

He looked down at the liquid swirling around his glass as his hand moved in a circular pattern as he tried to keep the bile from rising in his throat. He clenched his jaw and his fist before he pushed himself slowly away from the bar. He braced himself against it with both arms, his head hanging low as her words played on repeat concisely through his head. _If you somehow found…if you somehow found…if you somehow found…_ When it suddenly dawned on him that it had all been in present tense. She hadn't said '_if you _had _found'_ or '_if you _had _gone'_ or '_you would _have_ been'. _Every verb was in the present tense. Well, the ones that he chose to focus on anyway.

He reached into his wallet and dropped some bills on the counter before numbly walking towards the door.

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"I'm coming, I'm coming," Brooke muttered as made her way quickly to the door of her apartment, briskly tying the sash of her satin robe around her waist and wondering why the bellman hadn't rung to notify her of someone wanting to see her.

She pulled the door open to reveal a glossy eyed blond on the other side. "Lucas," she sighed, "how did you get-"

He didn't wait for her to invite him in. He stepped around her, walking into the large living room without a word.

"Up here," she finished as she closed the door and locked it behind them before she turned around. He was standing in front of her with his back facing her when she walked into the room, his hands were on his hips, his head throw back; eyes closed.

Brooke didn't say anything and Lucas chuckled bitterly before he spoke, "I should be so much further than this by now."

Brooke's eyebrows arched recalling the strikingly similar comment made by, she assumed, the topic of this one. She wondered absently if this conversation was going to go the same way that one did.

"Do you think she's the only one who got hurt?" he bit out loudly as he spun around, his four fingers pointing into his own chest.

Brooke's head dropped back. "Lucas-"

"No!" he cut her off. "God, Brooke, do you have any idea how many times I almost got on a plane and just flew out there?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why didn't you?" she asked passionately.

"Because," he flopped down blindly onto her sofa, "I knew she was in LA, conquering the world; working in her new job, living in her new apartment, creating her _new_ life. She didn't need me. I wasn't part of that."

"She did need you. So much! And you could have been part of it." She sat down next to him gently, curling a leg underneath her on the couch. "She wanted you to be."

He shook his head and continued as if he hadn't heard her. "There are so many nights when I sit by the phone debating whether or not to call her. And just… apologize. Tell her how lost I feel," his voice cracks, "and how that _everywhere_ I go I'm reminded of _us_. Where we've been, all we've done." He closed his eyes as a tear leaked out. "I keep telling myself that I should be over this- over her." His blue eyes bore into her brown ones, begging for an answer. "I'm still stuck, Brooke. I'm still _here_. And she's…._not_." He took a shaky breath. "What do I do, Brooke?" his voice broke again and he turned his head toward her "When the past is all that I have and I can't get her back-"

"Yes you can," she interrupted, her own throat tight with tears. "Lucas you need to tell her how you feel."

"I have," his whisper was hoarse and dejected.

"When?" she asked fervently.

"Friday night, when I called you," he said quietly. His eyes staring at his hand, playing with a remote on the arm of her couch.

"You told her you were in love with her?" she asked dubiously.

"I did," he confirmed, his eyes rose to hers, "She didn't say it back."

_She also didn't tell me_, Brooke thought. "Of course she didn't, Lucas. She hasn't heard from you in three years; you live 5,000 miles away from her. You need to show her; _prove_ it to her," she stated adamantly.

He just looked at her; fierce blue eyes probing. He waited a few moments and when she didn't speak his eyes widened and he voiced the question that he was hoping she'd answer, "How?"

She gave him a scheming smile. "Are you coming to the launch party?"

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A/N: Your reviews inspire me; thanks so much!


	8. Hi Guys Author's Note

Hi guys. I haven't forgotten about this story. My mother was diagnosed with cancer three weeks ago and I have spent a good deal of time taking her to and from the doctor. Those of you who have been around for a little while know that we just got through a bout of cancer with my dad- the effect that this has had on my muse has been monumental. On top of all of this, for the past five weeks I have been taking six accelerated courses through the college that I attend. These things combined have taken up pretty much every second of the twenty-four hours that I'm allotted for a day. Fortunately, next week is the last week for the classes. I say all of that to say this: Fanfiction has never been my number one priority (I have a husband and children, a career, and I'm going to school full time) but lately, and for an undetermined amount of time, it won't even be ranking on the top ten list.

Thank you all for understanding. Hopefully I will be able to post the next (last) chapter soon- but as we all know, life has a tendency to get in the way sometimes.

~A


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